


Ascendant

by thatoneeccedentesiast



Series: Ascendant [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Bickering, Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Cats, Crime Fighting, Crying, Destruction, Deutsch | German, Dogs, Drama, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drugs, Drunkenness, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Français | French, Friendship, Gen, Guns, Heroes, High School, Italian Mafia, Italiano | Italian, M/M, Marriage, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Play Fighting, Portuguese, Protests, Rape, Restaurants, Running Away, School, Swearing, Teenagers, Underwear, Villains, Writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 27,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoneeccedentesiast/pseuds/thatoneeccedentesiast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world made of normal people and super people, it can be hard to tell who the good guys are and how evil the villains actually are. And when you're a super growing up in such a place, finding the line between good and evil isn't so easy. Nor is it easy to tell which side you fall on-if you fall on one side at all. Super Hero AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Building and Destroying

"Alfred! Matthew!" Arthur shouted through his nephews' door as he worked on pulling his sweater-vest over his head. "School boys!" There was a bit of squeaking and then the creaking of the twins' bunk-bed followed by the thud of feet. Satisfied, the man bobbed his head and waltzed down the hall to his brother-in-law's room. Knocking on the older man's door, he yelled;

"Francis! You have that big meeting with the director of super human affairs at ten today! It's nearly eight!"

No answer.

A flash of green later, the door cracked against the wall and his fellow super cried out, " _'ey_!" Smoothing down his messy hair, Arthur could care less what his brother-in-law had to say about his course of action. Bounding down the stairs, the man got to work at setting the burnt toast, runny eggs and questionable fruit salad down on the table. Putting together his plate, the blond grabbed the paper and began to read the latest article about the Warlock's latest escapades and heroic deeds. Snorting as he looked at a picture, Arthur had to wonder how a simple hat and upturned collar could keep countless questioning one super's true identity.

"Aw!" Alfred moaned flopping down in a chair. "Why'd you make breakfast?"

Not looking up, the uncle grunted; "Ask your papa why he came home at one in the morning last night."

Tugging back his chair in a way that caused it to screech against the tiles, Francis plopped down and turned his nose. "I won't be eating this."

"Fine by me food-snob!"

Stopping mid-poke of the salad, one of the twins asked; "So pops, where were you last night?"

A caustic eye later, the bearded man flipped back his hair and sighed. "Papa was busy brushing shoulders with benefactors and could-be-benefactors..."

"Did you get any new investors papa?"

Everyone's head turned. Arthur chuckled and patted the seemingly empty space beside him. "You're invisible love." A moment later, a pink faced Matt appeared.

"Sorry."

"It's alright  _mon chou_ ," His father cooed. "And  _oui_ , I found several new benefactors who are 'appy to 'elp our cause..."

"With men like that CEO of that weapons manufacturer in Turkey, Adon-Adan? Adnan*! With dudes like Adnan carrying on with their campaigns across the globe to lock us up, it's a good thing you get all the funding you do!" Al exclaimed waving his fork around for emphasis. "It's like really awesome that you do that for us dad!" Sipping his coffee, Francis shared a look with his brother-in-law, his sons saw him just as much a hero as they did their uncle...but that was because they thought he was  _normal_ and using his wits to get the men to agree...if they knew he was using powers to manipulate them all into giving up fat checks and periodic donations, would they still think him righteous? Good? Or would they believe he was just as bad as Adnan? Ivan the Terrible or Girl Yaga?

Running his finger through the ring of condensation left by his coffee mug, he tuned back into the dailiness of the world. Soon, he realized he was watching his two sons bicker over who would drive to school today. It was a soothing balm to his heart see that despite it all, they were regular boys with problems like who would drive the car, maths exams, rows with friends and what sport to pick up in the off season of swimming (Al wanted to give American Football a go and  _Matthieu_ hockey). Smiling, the blond man thought sadly of the day when they took over Arthur's mantle as hero of the Sister Cities, London and Paris, and he would have to explain his job in the mess of supers and normals.

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"Ivan!" A teenager's head turned, the girl smiled.

"Yes Natasha?" The teenager inquired; turning away from the vase of flowers he had been arranging. She looked to them. They were a group of brown faces surrounded by yellow manes—her brother's favorite. And her least.

Natasha sighed. "More sunflowers?" Finger brushing over the yellow petals, he nodded.

"They always seem to die so quickly, why do you think that is?"

The girl toyed with one of the knives she kept within her apron and thought of the bleach in the "kitchen" of their hideout. "Maybe they don't like the cold brother," she answered. Purple eyes considered her, then the flowers and slowly, Ivan appeared to make up his mind.

"We should move." Natasha thinned her lips.

"Where brother? To sister's? She wants as little to do with us as possible, we are lucky she agreed to keep the boy for us."

The teenager's shoulders slumped and he shrugged. "I just want to be somewhere we can see flowers and it is not so cold all the time, don't you?"

The girl liked the cold. And the starkness of the world they had carved out for themselves; no bright colors to make her eyes water, no sharp bird trills to give her splitting headaches, not a single scent could overwhelm her nose here and the cold was so much more bearable in comparison to the itching heat. However, despite it all, she loved her brother more and wanted him happy despite all the discomfort she faced. So, with a great smile, she swept into the room and hugged him around his middle.

"I want you to be happy brother...but this is our home, isn't it? All of those people wold never believe the U.S.S.R is a serious cause f we just up and abandoned the towns we occupy, would they?"

His purple eyes dulled and Natasha was left to wonder just how serious he was about carving out a little world for supers like them. It had seemed like a dream until—well, they were making their niche now and if Ivan would stick to it, they might have a home of their own by the time they were thirty. Turning on her heels, the girl said;

"I'm going to make dinner, do you want anything in particular?"

He smiled and bunched the flowers a little more. "No cabbage tonight, I'm sick of it."

"Yes brother," Natasha agreed. Walking out, she nearly bumped into Toris; stumbling back, she glared at the allusionist. "What are you doing standing there?" The plain-faced boy flushed and dropped his gaze to his feet. Putting a hand on her hip, Natasha tossed back her hair and demanded for a second time; "Well Toris? Do I need to have brother get an answer from you?"

The elder flinched and the girl was proud. Despite all her brother's faults, he could instill fear in rebellious village boys. He would one day make a fierce General (just like old Winter). After a moment, the brunette pulled himself up straight and shook his head. "No, no," he told her. "Your brother called for  _me_ a little while ago actually...I think he wants to do a raid later."

"I see," The blond smiled. "Tell him if he's sick of cabbage we need to find a cow or pig to bring back for slaughter!"

Blushing for a reason the girl cannot decipher, Toris bobbed his head. "Of course Miss Natasha," he whispered as he walked around her and into her brother's room. Beginning to hum an old children's tune beneath her breath, the blond pulled out her favorite knife and wondered if she should whet it in preparation for the coming mission. Tapping her chin, she came to the conclusion the answer was yes. Laughing to herself, Natasha murmured;

"Oh I'm going to have so much  _fun_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters-
> 
> Arthur-England
> 
> Francis-France
> 
> Alfred-America
> 
> Matthew/Matthieu-Canada
> 
> Natasha-Belarus
> 
> Ivan-Russia
> 
> Toris-Lithuania
> 
> (Mr.) Adnan-Turkey


	2. Breaking and Mending

Coming into wakefulness, Elizabeta stretched her arms and legs across the length of her bed and sighed when her yearning fingers grasped only sheets and a pillow. Roderich was gone again. Sighing, she wished he'd talk about what bothered him in his dreams instead of getting up play that damn piano. Rolling over, she pushed herself out of bed and tugged her robe off the dresser. Tying it, she looked to the clock and was thankful she didn't have to be at the school today before ten.

Walking the long corridors her husband's successful concerts had bought them, Elizabeta couldn't help but feel they were empty. Once, she'd dreamed of children to call her own; but...a hand went to her belly. There would be no children for her. Only the visits from Roderich's twin cousins Feliciano and Lovino (whom she loved, despite Feli's ceaseless chatter and Lovi's bad temper). Coming to the end of the hall, she noticed the door to her husband's studio ajar.

Biting her cheek, the woman stuck her foot through and pushed it fully open. Coming into the room, she found her husband predictably slumped across the ivory keys with their duvet hanging half off him. A piece of Elizabeta thought fondly of the image; it was one of the traits that had endeared Roderich to her when they first married. How hard he worked. How he could be so swept away with his creations that he'd spend all night working on them...but once she realized they had little to do with his love for music and more so with haunting nightmares that left him trembling, stuttering and looking for an anchor? Well, she'd felt hurt. Hurt that he couldn't look to her as solid and stable and  _there,_ but he could look at a piano, so static, so  _cold_ and find comfort? It was awful to feel that he held a piano in higher regard to her.

Shaking her head from the revere, she approached the brunette and shook his shoulder. He jolted, the forte sound of jumbled chords waking him further; scrubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses, he smiled up at her.

"Eliza..."

The woman crossed her arms. " Roderich."

He looked down. "You are mad at me."

" _Wunderbar_! You're learning how to tell!" She snapped, holding herself back from punching him as she would Gilbert (the indestructible asshole). The man rose up and hesitantly put a hand on her arm.

"Please Elizabeta, this- _this_ says nothing about how I love you..."

Tossing back her hair, she scoffed. "Then vhy can't you talk to me about it? Vhat's so awful about your nightmares that  _I,_ an ex-super  _hero,_ couldn't handle? I've seen the vorst society has to offer and then some!  _Gott_ Roderich! I gave that all up for  _you_ so ve could live a charming civilian life like you  _promised_! This though? I'm living with a man I vant to help more than any before him and I  _can't_. You know vhy? Because he refuses my help! Do you know vho has refused my help before you?  _No One_. Not even those anti-supers look at me with hate in their eyes vhen I dive in and pull them from the rubble or stop them from being hit by a flying bus!" Finished with her rant, the woman saw her husband's wide-eyed gaze felt regret. _  
_

Turning away, she said to him, "I have to be at the school in half an hour, excuse me."

"Eliza!" He cried.

But it was too late, she'd already whisked herself back down the hall and slammed the door to their bathroom behind her. Ripping back the shower curtains, she pulled on the faucet and sent hot water cascading down her still clothed body.

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"See ya Luddy!" Gilbert cried after his brother who studiously ignored him as he propelled from the car and toward the school. Chuckling at his brother, the man made to pull around to the school lot when a familiar profile caught his eye. Smirking, he hit the breaks sharply; it cause several behind him to honk and drew the pretty woman's attention.

She frowned and he waggled his eyebrows.

"Oh please!" Scoffed.

Rolling his window down, he yelled; "You know you like it Elizabeta!"

"As if!" She shot back, a smile twitching at his lips (though, it could have been a sneer too).

"Hop in Eliza, the parking lot is next to the athletic department!" He called to her.

The woman shook her head. "I'm fine with walking the extra distance!"

A storm cloud clapped above. He smirked and ran his hand over the seat beside him. Her green eyes went once more to the sky and then she reluctantly inched over to his car and pulled the door open. Coming in, he said to her; "Buckle up!"

And a moment later he sped off from the drop-off line with the brunette cursing at him for his speed. He laughed for a moment and then after a beat of silence asked; "How are things? I haven't seen you since, like, July!"

"It's the second veek of school and if you made a point of showing up for orientations! You might have seen me  _last_ week!" She grit at him.

Shrugging, Gilbert went for one for one of his cigarettes he kept in the compartment under the radio. Elizabeta slapped his hand. "How can you even  _think_ of those cancer sticks vhen there are children running around just outside!? And one other thing-"

Thoroughly scolded, the albino muttered apologizes beneath his breath and thought absently of how much more that had stung in comparison to the hits he'd received last fall after her and Roderich had married. "Things not going well now that the honeymoon is over?" He inquired.

She stopped in her rant, face blank. "Ve found out I can't have children," she answered.

"Ouch."

His childhood friend slouched in her seat. "And Roddy's nightmares have become more frequent, he  _von't_ talk about them either..."

"Hey," he whispered putting his hand on hers. "It's okay."

She began to sob. "But it's  _not_!" She wailed. "Vhat if I made a mistake in marrying him? Vhat if I vas meant to marry y-"

He slapped his hand over her mouth. He didn't want to hear what she had to say next. He realized he had had his chance and sure, sometimes he wished he'd done things differently, but he could see Roddy really cared about her. More than Elizabeta was willing to give him credit for right now. "He's a good guy, Roderich," Gilbert declared. "Don't tell him I said that, of course, but he  _is_." He smiled over at her. "And you'll get through this."

Finally able to light a cigarette, Prussia put it to his lips and smiled around it. "Hey, I know you said you vere done vith the super hero business...but you look like you could blow off some steam. Vant to go on patrol vith me tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah I  _vould_ actually." The brunette replied with a smile. Just as he finished parking the car, Elizabeta leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. " _Danke_ Gilbert!" She shouted already outside the car. "I'll come by after six okay?!" And she was lost to the throngs of students and teachers.

Smiling to himself, the albino touched his tingling cheek with reverence and wondered what the woman's and her husband's thoughts were on a threesome...

 


	3. Abandoning and Rescuing

"Get out!  _Get out_!"

Dodging the wok and knives being tossed his way, Li Xao Chun ran from his opiate addicted mother's apartment and for the familiar streets beneath his home.

"You little demon spawn!" She screeched after him. "If I see you around here again I'll kill you! Don't think I won't!"

Studiously ignoring her as he trotted down the street, Li attempted to play it off as he would any other screaming fit his mother had; a bunch of meaningless words that she'd apologize for in a day's time with his favorite junk food and a roll of fire crackers. But as he felt the burn of a thousand eyes on his back, the Hong Kong native knew there was no hope of believing his pretty story.

She  _saw_ him use it. She saw him set fire to the gas stove with a snap of his fingers. It didn't matter that he only used it for things like that and sometimes for silly, boyish pranks; all his mother saw was another possible terrorist. Someone who could realize the power they held over the millions of people of Hong Kong and billions of China and someone who not  _could_ -but  _would_ use it to their advantage and terrorize the populace into meeting their demands.

Sometimes, and  _just_ sometimes, Li wished the foreign father neighbors and passing acquaintances whispered about had known about him and taken him home with him. The western world was so much more accepting of people like him.  _Supers._ And wasn't that a stupid way to describe them? They weren't  _super_ as far as he was concerned, they had all the same problems as everyone else along with the added issue of figuring out what to do with their " _gift_ ". How to control it (if it was in need of controlling), how to use it, what do do with it, and if they wanted to pretend it didn't exist or if they wanted to use it for the bettering of human kind. Or the worsening of the humankind, he guessed.

And where did Li fall in all of this? Well, he would rather just pretend he'd never had the fire never come to life beneath his fingers and the teen wished he could be worthless man his mother always accused him of ("Just like your  _father_ you no good piece of shit!") But instead, the fates had picked a different path.

He was super. A powerful one he was willing to bet. Those ones up in Russia and the Baltics had nothing on him as far as he could tell; a guy who could teleport and a girl with perfect aim? Someone just needed to corner them and they were toast. Him though? Li could always lash out with his fire and come out alright in the end, his fire didn't hurt  _him_ after all. Sighing, the teenager let his feet carry him across the road and down one of the winding blocks he often wandered in his childhood when his mother had men in their home.

It was a familiar stretch, he could see the fish stand to the left; the flower shop beside it and up the road was a cafe and if were to turn the corner he'd see Mr. Wang's restaurant that he ran with his brother (and Li's classmate) help. An idea came to the teen. What if he stopped to see if Yong Soo would let him stay the night? The two of them weren't "friends" per-say...but they were friendly? Or at least they didn't hate one another. And Mr. Wang was pretty motherly, he wouldn't like it if Li told he hadn't eaten dinner yet. If he said that, he'd probably tell him to stay the night too. Which would be great, it would give him the night to figure out what he needed to do.

Taking the turn, he didn't even look into the restaurant's front window before pushing the glass door open; his plan was already in motion. There was no hope of stopping this wild fire of a plan.

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"You are a dishonorable man."

The hairy body stopped in its action; the only sound in the dark park being his harsh breathing and the sniffling of a softer kind.

"I should kill you for what you have done to her."

The body turned, mouth gaping and neck bared. Not waiting, the super used his inhuman speed to slice the criminal's throat.

"AHHH!" His victim shrieked as the body toppled back on to her. Kneeling, the young man nudged the body aside and offered his hand to the girl.

"I am sorry that had to happen," he told her. "Truly."

Tears in her eyes, she scooted back and shook her head. "...My mother told me never to talk to you-or any super for that matter."

"I bet she also told you never to walk in the park alone at night."

She gave a little cry and tried to stand; but her panties were twisted around her ankles and she stumbled. Averting his eyes, the super sighed. "Please, I will take you to a hospital-or your home..."

"Why should I trust you!?" She screamed as she righted herself and her underwear.

Frowning at her behind his mask, the man could only shake his head. "Because I kept him from hurting you further."

"Killing a man is not a honorable act."

"Nor is raping a girl."

She bit her lip. "...Okay," she whispered. "Take me home."

"Good choice," he whispered as he gently lifted her up into his arms. "Where do you live?"

"Just through the park that way and the first house on the corner on the right." She told him.

Thankfully, the super was familiar with the area and in a flash, he was in front of said home. Putting the girl down, he asked her; "Will you tell your family what happened?"

Her lip wobbled. "It would just kill my father," she whispered.

"It would kill him for it you kept such a secret from him;" he countered.

She pushed back her braid. "I...I don't know. I think I just need to sleep on it a while."

"Good luck," he concluded as he began to wander away.

"Hey!"

He looked back. Tears were in her eyes, but she was smiling. "My mother was wrong! All of you supers aren't as crazy as she said!"

He smirked behind his mask and waved. "Goodbye!" He yelled and a blink later, he was gone.

(As if he'd never existed).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters-
> 
> Li Xao Chun-Hong Kong
> 
> Mr. Wong-China
> 
> Yong Soo-Korea.


	4. Hating and Loving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and bookmarks so far!

" _Hola mi hermano~_ " Antonio called walking into his brother's store.

The man, who was busy flipping idly through a magazine behind the counter, looked up to shoot a glare at him. "Get your damn tomatoes and  _get out_ Antontio."

Picking up the food as instructed, the younger man took the time to pout at his brother as leaned on the counter the other hid behind. "Aw, is that anyway to treat your  _hermano_? I moved here just for you, you know."

Putting aside his magazine, the Portuguese man scoffed. "I didn't  _want_ you here. You should have stayed in Spain just like  _mamãe_!"

"You better watch it  _mi hermano,_ I'm getting angry and neither of us want  _that_ ;" the Spaniard threatened as he gripped at the ledge of the counter.

Glowering at the younger, Henrique eventually grabbed his scanner and used it to read the bar code attached to the tomatoes's stem. "Get out of my  _sight_ ," he hissed. Before things could get any worse, the opening of the sliding of the shop doors and the squeak of feet against the floor's tile drew their attention;

"Oi! Do you have any lemons? Uncle Marcellus wants some!" A teenager shouted as he walked into the little corner-shop. _  
_

Behind him, the teenager's twin followed; "Do you really think you should talk to Mr. Henrique like that _fratello_?"

"I'll talk to him however I want! I can get the Mafia to bust a cap in his knee!" The brother snapped.

Sighing, Henrique pointed to the crate not far from where the boy's stood. "I have some in there Lovino." The man looked back to his younger brother then, lips open and ready to warn him; but it was too late.

"Lovino!" Antonio cried. "How are you today? You look as cute as always!"

Face red, the teenager shoved back the man and snapped; "Back off you sicko!"

"Aw..but you're so cute! Your face! It reminds me of a tomato..." Antonio whined as Lovino continued to battle him off. Watching partly in amusement and mostly in pain, Henrique cancelled his brother's purchase and kept an eye on the other twin as he leaned down to inspect the lemons.

The boy, his fiery twin's opposite, smiled and sang to himself as he picked out a few lemons. Once done, the boy brought them over-still grinning. "Good morning Mr. Henrique!" Feliciano greeted.

Smirking, the Portuguese fellow typed in the fruits's number and smiled at the youth. "Hello Feliciano, how are you?"

"Very well!"

Putting the lemons in a bag, he said to the teenager; "Tell your uncle hello for me, alright? Oh, and remind your Marcellus you two belong in school at this time-not running errands."

The brunette laughed and pushed back his bangs. "I know, I know...but his feet are bothering him again and well, we don't mind!"

"I bet," Henrique winked. "Antonio and I never passed up a chance to miss school."

"You...two?" Feliciano frowned; confusion clear. He'd never known them to be friends. Never seen them do anything besides fight and glare at one another; it was impossible to see that their relationship could have ever been called anything besides "rocky".

Clearing his throat, the man muttered; "Yes, um-hey! Hey Antonio! You remove that hand right now or say goodbye to it! Lovino and his brother have to  _go_."

"¡ _Hasta luego_ Lovino! Feli!" The Spaniard shouted after the boys as they trotted out of the store.

Shaking his head at the younger, Henrique wagged his finger. "You need to stop doing that! He's the same age as Francis's boys! It's creepy!"

"But he's so  _cute_ ," Antonio whined.

Picking up his magazine and turning back to his page, the older grunted; "One of these days the kid's going to get one of his mafia friends to put a bullet in your ass." Looking up, he nudged the tomatoes toward the end of the counter. "Now get your damn tomatoes and  _leave_ Antonio."

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"Uncle Marcellus!" Feliciano called as he stepped into their home; "Lovino and I have your lemons! We're going to go to school now!"

A moment later, the old man hobbled out from the kitchen and smiled a gaped-tooth grin at them. " _Grazie_ boys," he told them. "Such fine young men you are!"

"Uncle.." Lovino part-whined, part-grumbled. "We aren't ' _fine young men_ ' we are members of the Mafia!"

The old man's eyes clouded some. "Yes...yes, I haven't forgotten. But it doesn't change the fact you went out of your way to get me the lemons when you both know you are disrupting your own learning not to be in school right now;" he explained.

"But Uncle Marcellus, we  _like_ when we miss-" His twin threw his hand over Feliciano's mouth.

"Yeah Uncle Marcellus, it's real  _kind_ of us. But you're our uncle! I'd do the same for Feli even though he's an absolute idiot! You've gone out of your way for us-like taking us in when grandpa died. It's what family does for each other, right?" The frowning teenager declared as he managed to finish pushing his brother behind him.

"You make a good point Lovino," Marcellus agreed as he took the bag from his great nephews. "Now grab your school-bags and get on. You have History in twenty minutes, don't you?"

Doing as told, the boys stooped to pick up their satchels where they left them by the door earlier and hurried out.

"See you uncle Marcellus!" Feli cried as he waved goodbye.

"Goodbye boys!"

Poking his head back in, Lovino told his great uncle; "I'll be back later tonight alright? I have football practice!"

The old man nodded. "You brother?"

"Cooking club's tomorrow!" And with nothing else to say, Lovino disappeared and the door finally closed.

Alone once more, the man couldn't stop himself from looking at the picture of his older brother that hung proudly on the wall. He was younger in the picture, a handsome man with a flirty grin and his arm slung around a good friend's shoulder; a blond, Northern fellow. It always felt like a tragedy to know what happened to the two, even more so when he thought of the two boys he'd been left to raise. They had admired their grandfather, despite his faults, despite his life choices and despite what he did to people-strangers and friends alike. Now that Feli and Lovino were older, the mafia that their grandfather started all those years ago had now begun to ask favors of the twins they'd taken an invested interest in all these years...

Since taking the boys in, Marcellus had done his best to instill god, morals and love into them; he felt it might be impacting Felicano these days, but Lovino...sometimes he simply had too much fire in him. He was short-tempered, slow to think and quick to act; but most of all, he had the added belief that everyone liked Feliciano  _more._ And with an idea like that going through his head...well, Marcellus feared the day the boy thought he had to prove himself. It would end prettily for no one.

Stepping forward so he could pick up one the smaller, different photos settled on the table beneath his brother's picture; the old man traced one of the tiny, round infant faces he held in his hand.

"Oh you poor boys...I wish things could have been different for you both."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> (Mr.) Henrique-Portugal
> 
> Antonio-Spain
> 
> Lovino-S. Italy
> 
> Feliciano-N. Italy
> 
> (Uncle) Marcellus-Vatican City


	5. Hurting and Helping

"Everyone on the ground! Now!"

People all around him dropped, hands on the backs of their necks as the tellers behind the counters shook visibly. Cocking his gun, he motioned for his hired men to stand ready at the well-sized bank's front doors and then nudge the one beside him to shoot the cameras. Once his orders were carried out, Sadik Adnan stomped over to the counter and held out a simple backpack.

"Fill it," he ordered. "And I want  _everything_ , got it?"

The young lady, mascara already running from her frightened tears, nodded and with trembling hand took the bag and ran back to gather what he asked for; smirking to himself, Sadik bet she was going to try and call the police. Too bad he already used a scrambler on all of the cellphone signals and sent two of his men to go cut the phone lines when they entered ten minutes previously.

Looking to the man frowning at the teller spot next to where the woman had been, the Turkish fellow cocked his head; "What are you looking at?" He demanded.

"They'll catch you," he hissed. "Someday. Someday they will find you and they will show  _no mercy_."

Lifting his gun, he pointed it at the youth. "I'd shut up now if you don't want your mother and father to have to identify your body."

He paled beneath his tan, "Y-You wouldn't..."

"Watch me," and without care, the man shot the teller in the arm; ripping a scream from him. Turning around to all of the wide, frightened faces dotted around the room he yelled; "That's what mouthiness gets you! If any of you are thinking about being heroes I'd stop right now! You'll only end up dead!"

Some women began to wail and the man was cursing as he sobbed in pain; in the midst of this, the little teller girl came back with the bag as well as another. Looking once to her fallen co-worker, she stepped forward and handed him his loot.

"Here," she whimpered.

Taking it, he smiled. "Thank you kid," and with a short wave, his men fell behind him. As typical with his operations, just as he stepped out, a nondescript car pulled up to the bank and the men herded in. The door hardly closed behind them, the car zoomed away from the crime scene.

"Looks like she was sweet on you boss," one of his men remarked pointing to the extra bag.

Turkey nodded as he riffled through. "She was," he agreed. Handing it to the fellow, he said with a smirk; "Think of it as a bonus for all of you."

Smiling himself, the other began to inspect the money and valuables; "Hey, thanks."

"You deserve it, you and your men have been very useful to me these last few robberies." Taking all but his mask and cap off, he was once more just a simple man dressed in a businessman casual; pointing to a corner, he told them; "Drop me off there, will you?"

Veering right, the driver looked back at him. "I don't see why you don't just ride back with us to our place, it'd be a lot easier."

Opening the door, the Turkish man smiled and shrugged. "Habits die hard, my friend."

"Alright, alright," the bearded man chuckled waving him off. "You know how to reach us for next time."

Stepping out, he nodded. "Until then."

Once out, his henchmen sped off again and Sadik was left to remove his mask and hat. Walking back to the alley beside the corner, he picked up his briefcase hidden behind the dumpster and moved his goods from the backpack to the brief case. Once done, he shoved his hat and mask into the back pack and tossed it into the trash; with that done, he removed the transparent gloves he'd been wearing to put in his pocket to throw out later. Brushing a hand over his head, he took the tie from his front pocket and began to do it as he juggled the heavy briefcase.

Once done, he grinned at his work well done and whistled to himself; if he took the shortcut home, he'd be able to eat dinner with the boy he took in last month. He bet he'd get to hear about his"dear" hired men on the news when the trackers on the jewelry led the police straight to them and their hideout after they ate too.

* * *

"Hello."

"Good evening."

"How do you do?"

Were a few of the things Heracles Karpusi said to his guest as they came through the door to him home; he even smile at a few of the familiar faces. Francis Bonnefoy. Kiku Honda. Makarios Pavlou. Once finished with greeting his guest, the man picked up the cat that had been rubbing up against his legs the entire time he'd been welcoming his guests and headed for the hall. Entering he took notice of those milling around and those already seated at the little tables he had set up earlier in the day; clearing his throat, the Grecian walked through the room to the first step of the wide staircase and came to stand in front of a small podium.

Looking out at the crowd, he smiled.

"You know why we are all here today," he told them; for a moment, he looked away and to the cat that purred under his expert fingers. "And..." A green eye opened and glimmered. It was such a beautiful color, he wondered if he could recreate it...a chair screeched. "And! And there is even more to speak on tonight than I had previously thought."

Meeting some of guests' gazes one by one he said to them all:

"Today, another bank was robbed by the Masked Turk; and today, some of the jewelry he stole had tracking devices on it. Unluckily for us and luckily for him, he took notice and left it with his accomplices. His accomplices were arrested and upon questioning it was found he never removed his mask within their presence or removed his hat. All the weapons there were specifically modified by his hand-the bombs found there included."

Beginning to pace, Heracles looked to the ground as he went on; "You might wonder what importance these bombs hold. Why I'd made specific note of their existence, but in a moment it will become quite obvious. We have long suspected the Masked Terk of being a bigot and involved in more than robberies, but now with the bombs in the hands of lab techs we've found the match the remains of detonated ones from super rallies and meetings in Turkey, Greece, Cyprus and with more time, we fear and believe they will match other bombs from across Europe."

Lifting his head up, the Grecian declared; "This Masked Turk must be revealed at all costs-with each passing day he grows more dangerous to our cause and to supers across the globe. Forget the U.S.S.R in Russia and the old Soviet Union, forget the Million Man of Ireland and the U.K.; this Masked Turk is  _smart._ Crazy smart. Given enough time, he will devise a way to murder all supers and super supporters;" Taking a breath, Heracles slammed his hand down on the podium as he yelled; "The Masked Turk is the super's Enemy Number One!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters this chapter:
> 
> Sadik Adnan-Turkey
> 
> Heracles Karpusi-Greece
> 
> Francis Bonnefoy-France
> 
> Kiku Honda-Japan
> 
> Makarios Pavlou-The Republic of Cyprus


	6. Fighting and Caring

Swinging his ax at the beast-like super, Bertram laughed with exhilaration; "Fuck yeah!" He screamed as it fell back with a low whine. Enraged, the beast looked to his bleeding chest and then back at the Denmark-native. It growled and launched himself at the tall man; the other super was too quick for Bertram to parry, but he didn't mind. In fact, he began to laugh as the other ripped into the flesh of his arm, knowing very well that the pain would fade in matter of moments and be whole once more in just a minute.

Knocking the other off him, the blond used his ax to pin him to the ground. He began to absolutely  _howl_ at the pain caused by being stuck to the ground with Bertram's ax in his shoulder; adrenaline and sympathy unknown, Bertram laughed. "Serves you right you fucker! Shouldn't fuckin' use your power to scare the shit out of store owners to cough up cash and stuff." Leaning over the writhing figure, the Denmark native smiled; "A guy like you...you're not worth much at all, are ya? Maybe we should just-"

He stole back his ax, ripping another wail from the poor man beneath him and with a nearing manic smile he lifted it; ready to-

"Stop!" Lukas screamed, tackling him. "God you idiot!" He roared hitting him. "We aren't in the business of  _killing_!" Looking back at their third member, the Norwegian-born demanded; "Did you see this coming Berwald?"

The stoic blond stopped beside the injured super and grunted as he knelt to start putting a compress on his shoulder. Unhappy with their latest mission and disgusted with all of them, Lukas got off his not-brother and spat; "Why the hell did we invest in coms if  _you_ aren't going to use them-" he paused to look angrily at Berwald. Then kicking the taller man next to him, he hissed "And if you're just going to ignore us!" Stocking away from his partners Lukas threw up his hands. "Somedays I think only Emil and I know how to use the crap!"

Watching the smallest man stalk off, Berwald turned to Bertram who was still laid out on the ground. Pressing a little harder on the beast-like super's wound, he inquired "Good?"

The blond laughed weakly. "He just takes the high right out of you," he groaned rolling up. "Sometimes I wish he didn't suck you dry of everything."

"He's useful," The other reminded him as the wail of sirens picked up in the background.

Bertram nodded. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "I don't know where any of us would be without him."

"Dead," the bespectacled man answered as he pushed said glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

The Denmark-born man laughed like nothing else. "God you're a hoot!"

Pounding feet came from behind them, heads turning, the duo saw it was paramedics. "What do we got here?" One of them demanded as they fell beside the injured super.

"A deep cut to his shoulder, possibly hit an artery and then some minor bruising and smaller cuts."

Brushing back his hair, one of the paramedics swore. "Jesus, how'd this happen?" But it really wasn't a question, his eyes were on the blood-stained ax Bertram leaned against.

Shrugging, the blond looked away. "He was hard to subdue." But everyone could hear the falsehood in his voice.

* * *

"See you tomorrow!" Emil shouted at his friends as he took the familiar path to his "brother's" and his boyfriend's apartment complex. Taking out his phone as he went, he scrolled threw the texts to see his older brother had left his several him several texts.

**Stay with Tino til we get back.**

and then

**Do your homework.**

followed by

**Bertram's going to spin yarns-don't listen to him.**

Rolling his eyes at Lukas's commands, he shoved the phone back in his pocket and used his key to get into the apartment building. Walking up the steps, he tensed at the sight of Berwarld's loathsome little brat of a neighbor, Filip.

Scampering up, the ginger abandoned his action figures in favor of following Emil. "Are you going to see your brother?" He demanded.

"No, Filip, he's not home right now."

The boy stopped in his annoying hop-follow. "Oh," he grumbled.

"Where's your mom? Isn't she wondering where you are?"

Coming around to grin at him, the boy shook his head. "Nope!"

Emil reached out to touch the boy's face. "You got paint on you again," he remarked trying to scratch it off.

"No! Don't do that!" The younger whined as he darted out of the way.

Irked, Emil took out his keys as he saw the familiar number four that meant Tino and Berwald's apartment. "Whatever, see you."

Suddenly the boy was next to him again. "Can I come in? I like Tino's dog."

"Why not?" The teenager sighed, he would stay out his and Tino's hair if he was keeping Hanatamago busy, he'd be out of their hair.

Filip threw his hands up with a whoop. "Yay!" He shouted barging in as the door opened. "Hi Mr. Tino!" He shouted as he went to the living room where the dog had already bounced off the couch to meet the child. For whatever reason, Hanatamago adored the little brat. Probably because he was just as yappy as he was.

"Hey Tino," Emil greeted as he took a seat across from the other at the kitchen table.

Distracted, the usually cheery man pushed a plate of cookies his way. "Oh hello Emil, is your brother working late again?"

"Yeah," the teen agreed as he bit into a cookie. "Hey-" he looked to the tiny television propped on the counter. "Are you watching the news about  _them_ again?"

The man gave a weak smile. "It's hard  _not_ too with how often they pop up on the television..."

A bit of guilt stabbed at Emil. He knew who the men on the news were even if Tino wasn't aware of their true identities. "I'm guessing Berwald hasn't sent you a text either, huh?"

He shook his head. "But you know how he is! So forgetful..." The blond laughed.

"Yeah," Emil agreed. "Hey, at least that brat Peter will be coming for his summer visit soon, right? You won't have time to watch the news with him around."

Finland's lips flickered in a bit of a smile. "You're right." A quick succession of barks broke the silence between them followed by Filip's giggles and cry of

"Dance puppy! Dance!"

Tino gave the boy across from him a shifty grin. "We'll have to improve the locks as well, Peter  _hates_ little Filip."

"You'd think they'd be best friends given their penchant for trouble."

The Finnish man laughed. "Wouldn't you?" He concurred. Taking a sip of his coffee, he crinkled his nose. "Whoops, I let it get cold..." shaking his head, he leaned in and inquired; "So how was school today Emil?"

"Oh you know..."


	7. Ignoring and Warning

"Thank you for meeting for meeting with me on such short notice sir..." Francis greeted shaking the hand of the balding director of super human affairs.

Accepting the hand with a jovial nod, the old man's jowls wobbled; "I figured we needed to meet, what with all the trouble they're having up in Russia with capturing that group-The U.S.S.R, right? And then we ourselves have trouble with Million Man in Northern Ireland..."

"A villain for every country, wouldn't you agree?" France chuckled as they went to take a seat at the long table not too far away.

Settling in with a sigh, the old man eagerly concurred. "More than one! There always seems to be a damn supe waiting in the wings to cause mayhem!"

Gritting his teeth, the Frenchman does his best to ignore the agitation that's just rolling off the man and with a clearing of his throat offered; "Maybe sir, but at least there are just as many aspiring to protect normal citizens."

Taking a sip of his coffee, the director waggled his finger at the blond. "Yeah, but there out there causing just as much damage! If they  _really_ cared don't you think they'd be offering to fix it themselves? I tell ya Francis, there just out there for the thrill."

" _Oui_ ," Francis said with an airy chuckle. "Undoubtedly some are." Spreading out his papers, he looked down at them to check that they were ordered correctly before bringing them back together in a stack. "Now sir...I was hoping you'd take a look at this-"

"Sorry Francis," the jowl-faced man rebuked with an upheld hand. "I'm not here about programs today, I want to hear what  _you_ as a super ambassador has learned about activities in the area. With supes acting up in the ex-Soviet Union, I was wondering if some guys in the U.K-or just London for that matter, were thinking about doing something radical."

Despondent, the blond looked to his papers and his ideas for a public advertisement campaign...it'd been almost three years since he'd been given funding for a public relations project. In the past two years, all they had wanted was more ways to track supers, document them, single out the radicals...he wondered if there was a way to turn around this meeting. It would take quite a push to put the director in the right mood for discussing funds for public awareness; he was so-jittery, like someone even higher up was breathing down his neck for solutions to the out of control sect of supers that were cropping up all over the United Kingdom (and the rest of Europe for that matter).

"Oi Bonnefoy, do you know something or not?" The man demanded with a scowl on his face.

Francis sighed. It wasn't worth it today. Maybe at their next meeting in a month..."No sir," he replied with a smile. "Just the usual 'It's bloody unfair that Million Man can make so many copies of 'imself! If someone could just catch the  _real '_ im...'."

He laughed. "Good, good..." Getting up, he offered his hand again. "Thanks for giving me the debriefing; I'll be by for another meeting next month? The fourth, right?"

"Yes sir!" The Frenchman grinned. "I'm very excited to show you my plans, my boys, Alfred and  _Matthieu_ 'ave been a big 'elp actually and I would love to..."

Looking to his watch the old man nodded. "Sounds very promising, I'm looking forward to hearing about it!" He murmured. "Now, I'm sorry, but I'm running late for my next appointment."

Backing off, the blond gave a small grin. "Of course sir." And with that, the director left. Leaving Francis standing alone with his arms hanging limply at his side. Sometimes, just sometimes, he wished he wasn't so hesitant with his powers.

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Stepping into his office with a croissant in hand, the Frenchman would have gone straight to his computer if the blinking light of his phone hadn't caught his attention. Curious, he went to it; putting it to his ear he listened to the message and-

He immediately began to dial the number back.

"Dylan!" He cried upon its answering.

There was a pause. "Francis," he finally replied. "I was hoping you'd call back."

"What is it? Did something 'appen?" He demanded as he reached for a note pad and pen.

The Welsh-fathered man grumbled something to someone and then the blond heard a closing of a door. "Alright," Dylan sighed. "Alright I'm alone."

"What 'appened?" The Frenchman asked for a second time. "If I need to tell Arthur-"

"No, no," he cut in. "It's not that serious-actually, just tell him to be careful, alright? There's-some people here in the army are getting a bit-antsy. They think it's only a matter of time before Padraic decides to get his own band of followers to turn Ireland and Northern Ireland into a war zone like the upper parts of Russia and some of the Baltics."

"You don't think Padraic would, do you?"

Dylan scoffed. "You've met him, he's not concerned with ruling anything. All he wants to do is cause chaos."

"So they're worried Ar-the  _Warlock_ will do something like join the Million Man?" Francis inquired.

"Yeah, basically."

The Frenchman ran a hand through his hair. "I'll let Arthur know."

"Thanks."

" _Adieu_ ," Francis concluded.

He heard the shuffling of the phone. "Until later," The half-Welsh man finished before the line went dead.

Getting to his coat closet, Francis decided if he took an early lunch he could likely get back to the house in time to let Arthur know to not go on his usual rounds tonight. It'd be better if he just kept an ear out with the police scanner-as was practice for them when tensions were a running high. There was no need for something to happen to the younger man that might endanger all of them.

Passing by the secretary desk on his way out, the Frenchman called back; "Let anyone who asks for me know I've taken my lunch early, alright?"

"Got it," the young lady behind the desk replied, never looking away from the screen of her phone. Francis couldn't help the fond roll of his eyes as he went out the door, it seemed these days young people cared more about the faces they saw on their phones than the ones in front of them. It was probably for the best, otherwise she might have noticed the excitement on his features and caught it herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Francis Bonnefoy-France
> 
> Dylan-Wales
> 
> Padraic-Ireland


	8. Knowing and Wishing

"Matthew!"

Said boy looked up from his English book and to the class's doorway where a dark-skinned boy was grinning at him. Lifting a hand in a half-hearted wave, the blond echoed; "Carlos..."

Coming over, the teen fell into the desk beside him and propped his feet up on Matthew's desk. "How's it going?" Carlos asked as he swung his backpack up into his lap.

"I'm trying to finish this chapter before class starts," the blond replied; pointing to the cover of his book.

"Oh..." the Cuban exchange student murmured. "That's cool I guess."

Fidgeting at the awkward silence, Matthew inquired; "Don't you have to get to history?"

"No," Carlos replied with a sneer pulling on his lips.

Head flopping forward and book falling aside, the bespectacled boy rested his head on an arm and looked at his friend. "Al's in there, isn't he?"

Sulkily, the Cuban crossed his arms. "So?"

"You  _have_ to start getting along, they'll send you back to Cuba early if you get in another fight;" the other student insisted.

His friend poked him with his shoe. "Hey, Matt," he hissed; "You're stressing yourself."

Sitting up, Matthew studied himself and sighed when he saw his arms had turned invisible. Casting a look around the room, the teenager was relieved to see the teacher was late and the other students were too busy either trying to finish their assignments or talking to take much notice of the two of them in the corner. With a glare at his arms, they came back to themselves and Matt rubbed his hands up and down the pale skin. Sometimes is scared him how little control he had over his powers. His uncle and father said he'd get better once all his hormones settled down from puberty, but he didn't know. He'd been like this since...eleven? Twelve? That seemed like a long time for him not have figured out how to stop unwanted vanishing.

"Thanks," Matthew whispered.

The heavy-set boy slapped his back as he stood up. "No probs Matt!"

Cracking a grin, he asked the Cuban; "We doing lunch?"

"Yeah man," Carlos agreed with a smile of his own. "Want to head out for ice cream?"

Sitting up, the other teased his friend; "Don't you think we've had enough ice cream this week? We went out on.." he began to count the days on his fingers; "Tuesday, Wednesday and oh, let's not forget, we also hung out on Sunday and went there."

Flushing beneath his still tanned skin, Carlos put on a frown. "You can never have enough ice cream."

The blond laughed. "Alright, alright," he relented. "See you at lunch!"

Getting up his friend nodded. "Later Matt!"

"Don't skip history just because Al decided to spend his free period there!" Matthew called after Carlos; "He'll think he won some battle and no one likes a smug Alfred!"

Lifting a fist, the heavy-set teenager shouted; "Got it! I'm going!"

Watching the back of his friend for a moment, the blond went back to his book and wondered if the teacher would be much longer.

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Taking the outside shortcut to his maths class, Matthew sent a text to his father reminding him that he promised to pick up a pizza for dinner that night and checking the weather for the weekend so he would know if it looked like their football game would be canceled or not (he was sort of hoping it would be, he had a  _huge_ psych paper due on Monday). But as he was walking the path, someone tackled him from the side.

"Ugh!" He yelped, falling down with a body on top of him.

A fist hit his face, breaking his glasses in the process. "That's for showing me up in science yesterday! Who gives you the right to correct  _my_ space presentation in front of the rest of the class!?"

The boy couldn't see who was on top of him, but Matthew already knew they were mistaken. "I'm not-"

"Shut up!" They roared pummeling him back into the ground. "Pompous ass!"

Taking the beating, it was at times like these Matthew wished his power wasn't invisibility. Why couldn't he have super strength like his brother? Or maybe the power of flight? Either would be a great improvement. Especially given Al's penchant for pissing people off and their likeness...The guy kicked him in the stomach.

"Ah!" He gasped, curling in on himself.

The other spat on him. "Fuck yeah," he said. "That'll teach ya." And they began to walk away. Squinting, Matthew was disappointed that he couldn't tell who it was, the broad shoulders and dark hair could belong to any of the hundred of students that wandered their school halls. If only his glasses hadn't been broken, the blond sighed. Pushing himself up on shaking arms, the boy started the slow trek to the nurse's office.

"It's shame you don't know who did this dear," the aging woman clucked as she cleaned up the scrape the broken glass of his glasses had inflicted to the skin beneath his eye.

Wincing at the pain, Matthew nodded. "Yeah. I know he thought I was Al, but..."

"That brother of yours! You'd think he'd learn to be more careful with how often people get back at you in his place."

Watching her turn away to throw out the trash and take off the gloves she had worn, Matt just smiled. "He's thick, I don't blame him." He told the nurse and he meant it too. Because Al always stood up for him where it mattered and he'd probably know exactly which guy had decided to beat the shit out of him. Despite his flaws, his brother would always make things right and that's what mattered in the end.

"You're such a good boy," the graying woman remarked as she patted his knee. "Now, go on to lunch."

The blond blinked. "...Lunch?" It was time to eat already? He looked to the clock. It was half past-"Carlos!" He cried jumping up, his friend was going to be  _so_ mad when he learned what happened! And probably ready to pick a fight with Alfred too. Running out of the room, he didn't forget to yell back to the kind nurse;

"See you later Mrs. Smith!"

Putting things back in their place, the woman chuckled to herself. Boys would be boys, but still she hoped that Alfred learned some tact. If not for himself, for the brother that suffered in his place. It would be only a matter of time before Matthew's twin angered the wrong person and both boys would pay dearly for the mistake. That's was a certain and very grim future that the old nurse prayed to god would not happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Matthew-Canada
> 
> Alfred-America
> 
> Carlos-Cuba


	9. Remembering and Pondering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, alerts, bookmarks and comments so far!

_And the woman lifted the shovel above her head, face completely blank as she readied herself for her next action. The boy in front of the woman continued with his play, making tiny mud soldiers and commanding them with a twitch of his finger or a mumbled order; he would never have known what was to happen if his brother hadn't screamed;_

_"Luke!"_

_And tackled him out of the shovel's-_

Arthur stopped. Should he? Should Luke's brother save him? Or should he be hurt - if not killed? Studying the screen of personal computer, the Englishman leaned in on his hands and hummed quietly to himself.

"...It'd have more effect if he were dead." He hit the backspace button twice and then paused, "But it might turn off readers if he dies hardly a quarter of the story threw; even if the book is about Herald." Sighing, the blond reached out across his Francis-chosen desk and scratched one of the family cats beneath his chin. "What do you have to say Hamburger?"

The fluffy creature purred and leaned forward, Arthur's lips twitched. "You're right, to be a work talked about Luke will have to die." And it did pain him to say so, but it was truth. Putting his fingers to the key, he cleared out the last of what he wrote and began again.

_His young brother turned his gray eyes to him, curious, uncomprehending and it was then he saw it was too late. The shovel came down and Herald saw the blood begin to gush as the tiny head was smashed only to crack a second time when it collided with the ground beneath him._

_"No!" Herald screamed rushing forward, the woman would have hit him again if he hadn't lashed out. If he hadn't pushed the grown woman like she was nothing but a girl. It didn't matter in the end because she fell with a cry and stayed down as he picked up Luke. Cradling the small boy, he began to sob at the dullness of his gray eyes. They din't glint like metal any longer, they were ugly and dead like rock. "No..."_

Arthur pushed the computer's keyboard away and picked up Hamburger as he felt Maple rub against his leg. Stupid cats. He was glad these things were on their last legs. "You damn creatures," he chuckled nervously, "Always getting in the way."

He knew he was lying to himself of course, but this work was getting to him differently than any other before he had written. Maybe it was because it centered on supers unlike any of his previous works. Lifting his gaze to the porthole window of his walk-in closet converted to office, the blond wondered how well it would be received. People, despite the progress of the last twenty or so years, were still uneasy when it came to supers and the more obvious ones often faced hardship despite the nondiscriminatory and protection laws.

Some of it Arthur knew also had to do with the fact part of this story was written from experience. He'd  _been_ Luke. The Englishman had been the innocent, the one too young to know what hate his powers riled in others. If Allistor hadn't been there...he shivered. He could have been Luke. Arthur could have been dead and he would never have gotten to be here. To be who he was. Despite everything that went on between him and his brothers, the blond would always feel grateful. They, or more like Allistor, had cared what happened to all of them-especially after mum died. It didn't matter that he'd been seventeen and much too young to take on caring for his little brothers. He'd done it.  _  
_

If only for the mother he'd so deeply admired and loved.

(Arthur supposed that was a better reason than some had at least.)

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Walking into their townhouse, Francis slung his coat on the hook beside the backdoor and began to call out "Arthur!" the Frenchman yanked on his tie, wondering if the other wasn't still running errands or if he'd settled into his office to write. "Arth-!" He stopped.

A scowling, bushy-browed face was looking straight at him.

"What the bloody hell are you doing home Francis? I  _told_ you I needed the silence today to write!"

Grinning to himself, the older put a hand on his hip and gloated "You're brother called."

"Oh? Which one?" The Englishman inquired as he began to make himself a cup of tea. "It better not be Shane, I'm not in the mood to deal with why he needs money  _this_ week."

" _Non,_ it was Dylan."

The younger pulled away from the kettle and raised a horrendous eyebrow. "Oh? What did the sheep-shagger have to say?"

"That really is an unflattering thing to call your brother," Francis murmured with a wince.

Arthur scoffed. "What? It's probably true! He  _was_ a sheep for almost two damn years..."

" _I_ don't talk about my sister that way..."

"Oh please! Monica is Peter's age! What could she  _possibly_ done? Wait a few years, you'll see!"

Frowning, Francis sniped; "I'll  _never_ speak of  _Monique_ in such a way! She is a good girl!"

"Just you wait, once she really gets into puberty I bet she'll be just as much a whore as you are!" The Englishman sneered picking up his tea.

"I am  _not_ -" The man stopped. Shook his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said; "We are not discussing what is important." _  
_

Sulkily, the younger blond stirred his tea and asked; "What _is_ important?"

"What your  _frère_ told me."

Pushing off from the counter, green eyes were now inquisitive. "So what did he say then?"

"The army's on edge given the recent...super issues around Europe and beyond. 'e said to be careful. Don't go out unless it looks important, alright?"

Giving a bit of a smile, Arthur patted Francis's shoulder. "Don't worry chap, my publisher's on me about my deadline right now; I wasn't  _planning_ to go out tonight unless they really needed my help, anyway." _  
_

Relieved, the older smiled back. " _Bon,_ " he murmured with relief. "Now if you'll excuse me," he muttered looking at his watch. "I need to get back before people wonder where I 'ave gone." And with a quick peck to his brother-in-law's cheek, Francis was off. " _Au revoir_!"

Wiping the kiss from his face, the Englishman chuckled to himself. "Disgusting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Arthur-England
> 
> Francis-France
> 
> Allistor-Scotland
> 
> Dylan-Wales
> 
> Shane-N. Ireland
> 
> Peter-Sealand
> 
> Monica/Monique-Monaco


	10. Dreaming and Realizing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks

Coming into his home, Alfred shook the rain off his coat. Was he glad they'd canceled soccer! It was pouring out there and he'd hardly been able to see his hand let alone a goal half a field away! Walking in through the kitchen door, he ignored his uncle cursing the oven and dropped his bag in one of the room's chairs;\ before proceeding to the living room where the television was already on playing a commercial for some cereal or another. Plopping down on the couch, he picked up the remote and flipped it to his favorite channel.

It was a news channel dedicated completely to supers; super heroes, super villains, super issues, super accomplishments, super  _everything._ One of the best parts this channel's evening news Alfred had decided was the funny newscaster; Feliks Łukasiewicz. The guy was Polish and if you squinted, you could see he wore earrings. Alfred made a bet once with his brother that the guy was a drag queen. There had been no proof yet, of course, but Al was sure it was only a matter of time!

Why he liked this newscaster best, though, was because he used the word "totally" and "like" to such an extent that his uncle refused to be in the same room as the blond teenager when he chose to watch the evening news. Actually, it was one of the few ways that ensured Arthur wouldn't bother him about school and homework until  _after_ dinner. If they had dinner at the house, that is. Usually some calamity happened when his uncle made dinner and they'd go out to eat instead.

Feliks cleared his throat and grinned at the audience, or rather, the camera. "Like hello everybody," he said; "Today's big headlines include-but are totally not limited to-more genes have been discovered that are essential to the super makeup and how they are turned on and off, super riots in Hong Kong again this week, the Masked Turk is still at large in Turkey and some surrounding countries like Bulgaria and Cyprus..." he squinted. Shoulders a little tenser as he spoke again. "And in Russia, the U.S.S.R has attacked a small village and left several families without homes and their livestock stolen."

Letting green-eyed newscaster's words wash over him, Alfred began to think about what he knew about the U.S.S.R; not a lot was actually known. They suspected it was a small group, no more than ten, no less than four and rumor said they were just a bunch of kids. Not  _little_ kids of course, but like his age. That part was what always fascinated the blond the most.

Here his dad and uncle were telling him he was too young to be going out on the field and beating up bad guys, but there were guys out there- _his age_ -causing havoc and wasn't it only fair that someone like him could go out their and defend the world and show everyone that not all super teens were crazy? He thought so. But his uncle refused his request at every turn and Alfred's papa agreed with the decision.

 _"_ Mon chou _, finish your schooling, try out university; maybe it would agree with you,_ oui _?"_

The teenager scowled at remembrance of his father's words. They didn't want him out there. His papa and uncle wanted to treat him like a  _baby_ and he wasn't going to stand for it! So what if they thought he should wait a while longer before getting into the hero business? He didn't need their help to make a costume, or to find crimes he could stop. Alfred could do that all himself! He'd seen Arthur do it enough times to know how.

Smirking to himself, the blond thought about the costume designs he had in one of his notebooks. It had Super Man's colors, but it didn't look so  _dorky_ and once he got the fabric he ordered online...well, his papa and Arthur wouldn't be able to stop him from going out there much longer!

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"Shit!"

Alfred heard his uncle cry as he walked into the kitchen to ask when dinner would be ready. Looking to the blackened oven, he tossed back a handful of chips from one of the open bags on the table. Watching the older blond put aside the water bucket they kept on hand beside the flour, the teenager inquired;

"Can we get Mickey D's for dinner tonight Arthur?"

Flashing green eyes turned on him and with a fierce frown, the Englishman snapped; "No you little fat arse!"

Back up with his hands in the air, Al muttered; "Jeeze dude, no reason for name calling..." He ducked as a toaster came flying at his head and hurried into the dinning room where his brother was doing science at the table with Maple on his lap.

His twin looked up, "So I guess we're not eating anytime soon, eh?"

"Yeah," The teenager sighed. "Maybe we can order a pizza." He suggested hopefully.

Mattie shook his head. "Why don't we just go out?  _You_ might be grounded from the car, but I'm not."

"Aw man! You're the best!" Alfred enthused, bumping fists with his brother. "Hey, if we're going out, can we go to McDonald's?"

His twin threw an eraser at him. "You and your stupid McDonald's!" He grumbled.

"Okay! Okay! Pizza it is!" The teenager backed-off. "Let me get our coats. Meet you in five?"

"Yeah."

Driving to their favorite pizza joint about fifteen minutes from their home, Alfred fiddled with the radio until Matthew slapped his hand away.

"Quit that Al," he grumbled.

Pouting, the other began to drum his fingers on the dash board. Listless, he looked out to the evening streets and found them lacking in stimulation and so turned his attention to the radio. They were talking about the Million Man again. But who else was causing terror in the UK right now? No one, that 's who. Itching for something to occupy the silence, Alfred asked his brother; "Hey, do you want to be a hero?"

His twin looked over his glasses at him and frowned. "I don't know," Matthew answered. "Sometimes it looks fun. But other times it doesn't."

"Just think about all the people you'd help Mattie!"

Alfred's brother raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes Arthur causes more damage than he helps Al, why do you think he's always donating proceeds from his books to the police and stuff? To make up for it. How would either of us pay anybody back for the damage we'd cause? Neither of us have jobs even."

Sulkily, the blond teenager turned his head. "I wouldn't break anything."

"Alfred," Matthew said with a warm, bemused voice. "You've broken three phones  _this_ year from getting excited and squeezing them too hard. Just think what you might do to somebody when you rescue them."

Sticking his tongue out at his twin, Alfred whined; "You suck!" And he meant it too. Why did Mattie always have to be such a realist?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> (Al)fred-America
> 
> Mattie/(Matt)hew-Canada
> 
> Arthur-England
> 
> Feliks Łukasiewicz-Poland


	11. Demanding and Sharing

Francis managed to beat his kids home - but just barely. Pulling into the garage, he saw the headlights of his sons's sedan and with a discerning eye, he realized it was Alfred driving. Hadn't he told him he wasn't allowed to drive for getting in that fight the week before? Evidently the boy had decided to ignore him ( _again_ ), what was he to do with the rebellious brat? He was even worse about listening to Arthur these days...

Getting out, he turned to see the boys walking his way. Hand on his hip, he said; "Alfred, you're banned from the television for the rest of the month."

"What!?" The blond yelped. "What did I do?!"

Francis narrowed his eyes. "You  _disobeyed_ me. I  _told_ you,  _Arthur_ told you, you are not allowed to drive!"

"Papa..."

"Not now  _Matthieu_ ," The man told his good son as he came face to face with Alfred. "I'll be taking out the cord too - you're the only one who seems to watch it these days anyway-"

"Papa!"

Frustrated, Francis looked to Al's twin with a frown. "What?" He demanded.

In the evening's streetlight, Matt's eyes flared. "Papa, I was the one driving. Or did you mix me up with Al?  _Again,_ I might add."

"Uh..." Francis stroked his beard and stepped back. "Now that I think on it, it  _was_ you, wasn't it?" Covering his tracts, he yelled out; "What is that  _rosbif_?" Laughing to himself, he said to the twins, "Never mind Alfred - just don't let me catch you driving!" And with that, darted into their home. Leaving the teenagers to stare at his back from the driveway.

After the slam of the door, Matthew turned to his brother. "You  _so_ owe me."

"C'mon, Mattie, you don't even  _like_ driving!"

The other made a derisive noise in the back of his throat and cast his lavender gaze away. " _Sure_ , Al, it had nothing to do with you begging me to let Ponko see you drive away with the car so you might convince her that it's yours later!"

"Fine, what do you want you jerk?" His brother sulked, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes.

"For one week," Matthew started, covering his face, "You will  _not_ show up someone in your science class- no matter how wrong or stupid what they say is."

The blond pouted. "But  _Mattie_  -" _  
_

"Papa!"

The stronger shoved his hand over his twin's face. "Okay! Okay! Jeez, can't take a joke, can you Matthew?"

His brother licked his hand.

"Yuck!" Al cried, jerking back. "Ew! Ew you are  _so_ gross!"

Matthew grinned at Alfred. "And you aren't?" He quipped. "You cut your toenails in  _my_ bed!"

"Looking for a fight, are ya?" His brother demanded with a feral grin. Tackling his brother into their lawn, he took Matt into a headlock.

"C'mon Al!" The other whined. "You're too strong!" And he struggled against the arm that held him down, but as he knew it would be, it was futile. The teenager suspected their tussle would have gone on for a few more minutes if the front door hadn't swung open.

"Matthew! Alfred! What on  _earth_  do you think you're doing!?"

Blue eyes meeting his lavender, the brothers share a single thought.

 _Uh-oh_.

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Simmering over a shot of gin with Francis across from him cradling a wine glass half-empty, the Englishman looked up. "Those boys are going to be the death of us."

"Oh? Not your little 'obby?" The older man teased as he took a sip of his drink. "You're not getting younger Arthur, you'll 'ave to retire from being Warlock soon enough."

Scowling, the blond snapped back; "When hell freezes over!" Getting up, he downed his glass and said; "Every damn day your telling to quit! But  _dammit_ Francis I can't -"

"It's because of Padraic, isn't it?"

He slumped a little where he stood. In the silence, Francis found himself musing on how much younger Arthur looked in the middle of their kitchen with his flushed cheeks and messy hair. More like twenty-five or twenty-six to his true thirty-two. Sometimes he wondered...Allistor had mentioned once or twice that it was more than the visions that had driven his mother into her deadly insanity.

With the dim light from the overhead lamp, Francis could almost picture the man's mother as she'd been described to him over the years beside Arthur. They always said he took after her more than the rest of them. And Arthur always looked the most like - he swallowed back the lump building in his throat and looked to the glass in his hand. It had been a wedding gift. And it was one of the few he hadn't ever been able to convince himself to get rid of either.

He rubbed at his forehead. Maybe four glasses was one too many tonight. His brother-in-law's breath hitched and Francis looked at him.

"How can I just stand by and let him make a mockery of our family? Tell me Francis. One day, one of these  _damn_ days someone will figure it out. They'll catch him without his mask or he'll say someone's name and then what? Everyone will know he's my goddamn brother and what then? They'll start looking at us and they'll see you, Allistor,  _Dylan_ are all working for the government. They'll accuse you of being  _terrorists_ or some other ridiculous thing and where will we be? Fucking dead. But you see, I'll get to stand up, I'll be able to show that I'm Warlock and that I've been trying to fend him off all along! They'll have to see then that we don't approve of Padraic and maybe, maybe we'll-"

"We'll be safe." Francis finished for him. He knew this argument. Arthur made it about once or twice a year when the Frenchman brought up the hope that Arthur would retire from the hero business while he still had his health and wits about him.

Falling back into his chair, the blond man poured himself another glass of gin and bobbed his head. "Yeah," he answered. "Yeah..." and he threw back his next drink. Eyes glazing over as the alcohol began to disperse throughout his body. There would be no more coherent talk with Arthur tonight. He was three sheets to the wind and it was just as well. Francis didn't feel like talking very much anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Francis-France
> 
> Arthur-England
> 
> (Al)fred-America
> 
> Matthieu/Mattie/(Matt)hew-Canada
> 
> Ponko-Nyo!Japan
> 
> Allistor-Scotland
> 
> Padraic-Ireland


	12. Working and Resting

Eyeing the bushy-browed teen seated across from him in the back of his restaurant's kitchen, Yao briefly wondered where Yong Soo was; but that thought was quickly shaken off with the blaring need of an oven alarm telling him to get the chicken out before it started to burn. Turning away from the boy snapping gum as he did what appeared to be English homework on the industrial metal of the kitchen counters, the Chinese man pulled out the chicken and put it aside.

"Where is my brother?" He asked Li as he rang the bell for a waiter to come and get the dish.

He looked up, mouth open and gum hanging out half-blown. "Um..."

"He's watching one of those damn dramas isn't he?" Turning away from the teenager, Yao went to the stairs that lead to their apartment and yelled up the steps; "Yong Soo! Get down here right now aru! Or you can say goodbye to that new video game for your birthday!"

There was the clomping of feet and then a blur on the stairs before the teenager had wrapped himself around the Chinese man's neck; pouting. "Aw don't be that way brother!"

Grumbling to himself, the shorter man removed himself from his brother and nudged him toward the Hong Kong native. "Go study with Li aru."

"Fine," the Korean-born huffed going to take his seat beside his friend.

Satisfied, Yao went back to cooking and when a couple of the afternoon chefs shuffled in from the side door, he talked to them for a while and then began to bark orders at them as the dinner hour began to pick up. When it was in full swing, he told the boys to put their homework away and help if they wanted to eat tonight and neither complained. It was a miracle, Yao thought, at the end of the night that not one plate, bowl or cup was broken and every customer left with satisfaction on their faces.

Ushering his cooks and waiters and waitress upstairs after work, Yao had them stay and eat dinner in the little flat he and his brother lived in above the restaurant. The table, meant for two or three at most, wasn't big enough for the small crowd; but once he had Yong Soo and Li turn the couch toward the small kitchen, everyone was included comfortably into his and his brother's dinnertime routine.

They talked and joked and laughed for a while until one of the younger waiters mentioned he had classes in the morning and then a few more coughed and mentioned families they had to get home to and finally, the last of the group, the waitress remarked her roommate was probably wanting to go out and party by now and his good old cook, Ping, said he was tired and thanked them for dinner as he took his leave behind Yao's waitress.

Looking to the mild mess around him, the Chinese man felt pleased that no food was left except for a scrap here and there he'd leave for the strays out behind the restaurant; looking to the boys, he told them "Finish your schoolwork and get to bed, got it?"

Yong Soo pouted, but Li elbowed Yao's brother, causing him to straighten out. "Yes big brother," Yong Soo pouted; heading for the homework he'd brought up before they began to eat.

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"What are you doing up aru?"

Li blinked at him from where he was on the balcony outside the living room.

"How-"

Rubbing at his eyes, Yao told the boy; "You're the only one who turns on lights in every room you go into; and besides-" the older man pointed to the window that belonged to his bedroom sideways from the balcony. "I catch the glare of the light in my window from my room."

He could tell the teenager was ashamed to have woken him, but Yao didn't really mind all that much. It was much more peaceful in comparison to the nightmares Yong Soo used to have (still had). "So, Li, what are you doing up aru?"

"I-" he stopped to gnaw on his lip and look out on the still city scenery, it felt uncommonly quite, not that either of them minded. And the longer they stood in their respective spots, the Chinese man suspected he knew what kept up his brother's friend. He'd met Li's mother, Chun-Yan, on occasion. She wasn't very kind or lucid.

"Did your mother kick you out of your home?"

The boy's shoulders slumped a bit as he leaned more fully on the shoddily painted railing. "Yeah," he sighed.

"You can stay aru," Yao offered and Li turned with open mouth and doubtful eyes. "I've taken in a lot of children over the years - even when I was little more than a child than myself."

Stepping back toward him and the living room, the Hong Kong native smiled. "Thank you sir."

"It's nothing!" The older laughed. "And if your mother ever welcomes you back home, you can leave at your discretion." Putting his hand on the teenager's elbow, Yao lead Li back into the house. "We'll have to do a bit of shopping over the weekend, I think, though you and Yong Soo are close in height, you're a bit thinner..."

"You don't have to Yao," Hong Kong fretted.

The older moved his hand to pat the boy's back. "It's no trouble aru! I don't think my brother's style fits yours all that well either, does it?"

"No," Li agreed a little lighter. "No offense, but he thinks you can wear brown pants and black shoes together."

Yao grinned as he gave the youth a nudge back down the hall to Yong Soo's room. "I knew you had some taste," he teased. "You wear your clothes with much more care than my brother."

A flash of a grin on his usually somber features, the Hong Kong native gave Yao a quick bow and whispered; "Thank you and goodnight Yao."

"Night aru," The Chinese man agreed with a yawn. "I'll have breakfast ready at its usual time." And with that, slipped back into his own bedroom and fell into the bed that sat smack-dab in the middle of the room. Curling up beneath his sheets, Yao felt a little better knowing that Yong Soo's friend knew he was welcome to stay as long as he needed and wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Yao-China
> 
> Yong Soo-Korea
> 
> Li-Hong Kong
> 
> Chun-Yan-Nyo!China


	13. Leaving and Arriving

Li didn't miss how twitchy his friend had become in the last couple days or that Yao wasn't his usual, bossy - if not cheerful - self. Peeling out a piece of pomelo, the teenager bit into it taking the time to enjoy the flavor as he leaned back in his chair. Once he did so, he could see Yong Soo sitting in front of his family's small television (blocking the majority of the screen, he might add), absorbing the news as it was spouted from the speakers. Searching out Yao, he saw him leaning on the glass door of the balcony, watching the streets below.

The Hong Kong native didn't want to admit himself, but was beginning to get nervous himself; after all, those were a worrisome number of soldiers walking on the streets. They hadn't had any riots lately, so he didn't quite understand; but then again, Li rarely understood the strange extremes his country took when it came to protests, riots and large gatherings for any unsanctioned or unpopular reason.

Turning away from the window, the Chinese man turned to his brother; "What is the news saying aru?"

"Stupid stuff big brother," the teenager muttered. "Like there's a dangerous super on the loose."

Li gulped. He was a super. But no one would have believed his mother's ravings...right? And certainly not someone with enough clout to bring in  _this_ many soldiers. Unless she got a high-ranking official for a client. The teen was uncomfortable with it, but despite all his mother's ill choices, she was still quite pretty when she put on her make-up and nice clothes. Li got really jittery then. Putting aside his snack, he briefly wondered if he couldn't do something to change his appearance; like cut his hair or pluck his eyebrows.

_"Oww! Mummy!"_

_"Quit squirming! If you want the other children to stop making fun of you, you have to pluck these caterpillars!"_

_"Stop! Can't I just grow out my bangs instead?"_

_"...that's a good idea Li."_

Rubbing at his forehead, the teenager actually kind of missed his mom. For a moment anyway. And he also decided he  _so_ wasn't touching his hair or eyebrows.

"I think we'll go visit Mei's restaurant for a few days," Yao suddenly announced.

Yong Soo's head snapped away from the television and to his brother. "She hates you."

The man chuckled into his hand. "Usually," he agreed. "But she's also hates  _this._ " And Yao jutted his thumb at the window, craning his head so he was nearly tipping from his chair and into the counter behind him, Li saw a few of the soldiers talking outside the Chinese man's eatery. They were probably waiting for it to open.

"Let's get going then!" His friend tried to enthuse, but Yong Soo's voice sounded just as brittle as the Hong Kong native felt emotionally.

Nodding, Yao said to them; "I'll go put the closed sign up and you kids start packing."

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"Picked up another stray?" The young woman - who really couldn't be more than eighteen or nineteen - sniffed at the sight of them.

Yao for his part, only grinned faintly and told her; "You saw the news, I'm sure."

She twisted the dishtowel in her hands and then with an aggravated sigh, yelled something about cutting onions smaller at a young man who jumped and then waved them out of the small restaurant. Walking outside, she lead them to a door on the side of the building and explained most likely for Li's benefit, "I have neighbor that lives across from my apartment. She's pretty cool, but she's also old and nosy; so you better be careful if there's anything  _special_ about you." And with the final warning that was the narrowing of her eyes, she let them into the small home.

It was messier than Yao's, and stuffed animals were placed on some shelves and tabletops, but otherwise, it reminded the Hong Kong native a lot of Yao's home. He wondered if she'd been one of the kids he'd picked up over the years.

Setting their stuff down, Yong Soo's brother asked; "How have you been Mei?"

"Fine," she answered in a clipped tone. "You know the drill, don't go near my room and you three can sleep in the spare room." She squinted her eyes at Li, "Or I suppose one of you can sleep here on the couch." And she slapped the soft fabric with a quick hand. "So do the boys have homework or are they going to join you in helping me out downstairs?"

Yao sighed. "I had to pull them out of school, so yes they have a bit of studying to do."

"Alright," she grumbled and then with a wave of her hand, she and Yao had gone. Leaving Li and Yong Soo to do schoolwork in the vaguely foreign environment. Taking up a spot on the clothes-littered couch, Li didn't notice at first that his friend was meddling in the kitchen until he came back hold two cups of tea.

"For us!" His friend grinned; "You know they invented green tea in Korea," he boasted.

The Hong Kong native snorted. "Yeah right," he smirked. "Hey Yong Soo, is this Mei girl like your sister?"

Digging out his homework, the other nodded. "You could say that," he agreed. "But you see, they - Yao and Mei - kind of had a falling out a couple years back because she's a supporter of super rights and wants to  _show_ everyone that she is while Yao...he wants to work quietly." With a troubled gaze, Yong soo asked in an achingly quiet voice. "You don't hate supers do you?"

"What about you?" Li demanded first. "Do you feel the same way as Yao and Mei?"

His friend nodded. Taking a breath, the Hong Kong native cast his eyes away and admitted; "I'm actually a super."

" _What_?"

Li snapped his fingers causing a little flame to come to life. "Yeah." And with another snap, the flame was gone.

Scooting closer on the couch, Yong Soo gripped his wrist. "I had a super twin," he murmured; "He could do little things - like make a flower bloom or have a tree branch grow into a star-shape; one day, a neighbor saw him do it and..." he bit his lip. Li knew what happened. Wiping away some tears, his friend laughed. "Suffice to say, I'm the only one of my family who got away and I traveled a long  _fucking_ way to get to China. I was lucky that Yao was the one to pick me up, you know? There was this other guy who had been telling me how he'd "take care of me" if I came with him and "worked" for him and his clients." Bitterly, Yong Soo looked away. "Yao explained it to me a few years ago, he wanted to make me into a prostitute."

The teenager didn't think he had the words to sufficiently tell his friend how awful all that was. So instead, he squeezed his hand and muttered sympathetically "That  _sucks_."

Yong Soo gave a little laugh. "Doesn't it?" He replied. "I'm lucky Yao picked me up when he did."

"You are," Li agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Yao-China
> 
> Yong Soo-Korea
> 
> Li-Hong Kong
> 
> Mei-Taiwan


	14. Thinking and Doing

Laid out on Mei's couch covered by a blanket decorated with smiling food and swirls, Li felt restless. There was more than enough street light coming in from the uncovered window, so it wasn't like his fully-awake state came from the fear he felt with darkness...maybe because it was a new place? But the Hong Kong native hadn't felt this way when he spent his first night at Yao's. Flipping over on the couch, he wondered if it had to do with the fact he was staying at a girl's place. He was kind of - uncomfortable - if he squinted, he was pretty sure there was a bra hanging off the desk's cluttered surface in the corner of the room.

Sitting up, Li decided if he was going to be up he might as well make himself a cup of tea; but upon doing so, he saw something or rather  _someone_ unexpected. It was Mei, dressed in an over-sized grey sweatshirt, black tights and she had a scarf tied around her neck like a cowboy in one of those westerns would. Blinking at her, the teenager murmured "um."

Mei's eyes went to him. Her face split into a grin, "wanna go to a protest?" She asked.

"Uh..." Li answered intelligently. It was an odd offer, he had to admit, but what harm could their be in a bit of humoring her? "What's it protesting?" He inquired.

She put a hand on her hip, cocking it out in a confident pose. "It's to protest the Hong Kong occupation, surely you support a cause like that!" She said, coming over to grip the couch's back.

Li hesitated, then he nodded. "Of course," he agreed.

"Then come with!"

And she pulled him up by his arm, smiling as she danced around to the other side to lead him back to her room. "Let's get you dressed," she giggled.

"In what?" The Hong Kong native inquired as they stepped into her infinitely messier room.

Throwing aside clothes, she ignored him until she turned around to shove a sweater at him. "Put that on," she ordered; "I had a boyfriend about your size for a little while."

Li looked at it. It was just an easy black henley with some company logo scrawled across it in large gray letters; shrugging, he put it on and thought of a new question. "So why do we have to wear dark clothes? Does it symbolize something or other?" Li inquired.

"More like you wear it or when the police come to break up the protest you'll get arrested," Mei muttered as she ripped a scarf down from above. "I hope you don't mind floral patterns, it's my only other non-infinity or winter scarf."

"Why can't I wear your checker one?" Li pouted as he took it. "Does Yao know you do this?"

Giving him the finger, the girl shoved stuff back in its spot and muttered; "Yeah, but I don't care."

"How come you want me to come?" The teenager asked as they exited the room.

Grinning, she leaned back and pecked his cheek. "Because you're a cutie," and with a wink lead him out. "Let's go!"

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Coming up to an intersection that bordered a park and a bunch of apartments, Li saw a lot of people just milling around in the dim lights. Getting closer he realized a lot of them were yelling pro-super stuff, smoking more than just cigarettes and if he squinted; the boy could pick out some policemen watching from the shadows. Keeping close to Mei as they arrived, the teenager met a lot of fresh-faced youths and some older ones - supers - he guessed given a few of their appearances. One had scales, on his  _face_. If that wasn't an unfortunate manifestation of superness, Li didn't know what was.

"What exactly do we do at protests?" The Hong Kong native asked the girl as they wrapped up their greetings.

Smiling, Mei waved her arms. "Just hang out Li-baby," she replied. "But if you want to spice things up..." she flicked a finger, a group of people six feet to seven feet tall appeared before them.

"Wh-What?" Li gasped.

She winked. "I might not look it, but I'm  _all_  super and  _all_ proud."

"How'd you do that?" He asked curiously as police began to speak into walkie-talkies.

She leaned down and picked up a rock. "See this?" She asked.

"Yeah."

Mei covered it with her other hand. A blink later it was uncovered to reveal a butterfly. "I can't explain it like a scientist, but in lamest terms I can screw with the molecular make-up and turn stuff into whatever I want..." suddenly, the bug was a plain old rock again. The girl shrugged. "The sad part is if I don't concentrate like a  _lot,_ it doesn't last too long."

Li hummed. "That's kind of cool."

"It's kick-ass alright," she agreed with a shy meeting of the eyes.

Her giants brushed past them and a few of the protesters cried out their surprise. Watching with fond eye, Mei sighed. "I don't get to exercise my power too much, it's nice that I can here."

Tugging on his scarf, Li nodded. "That's cool," but his eyes were on the policemen. They seemed to be calling back-up and there were cameras coming in along with reporters. He wondered if now would be a good time to cover his face. Li really wanted to, anyway.

"What are you getting fidgety for Li-bear?" Mei aske as she hooked her arm with his. "Things are just getting good! Don't tell me you have cold feet?"

Scowling, he pulled back. "I don't!" He snapped. "It's just.." Li's gaze went to a suit-wearing reporter.

The girl's gaze followed his. "Oh," she whispered. "Don't worry about them; their harmless."

"What about the cops?" The Hong Kong native countered.

Her eyes shot to where he was staring. "Ah a bunch of losers! They won't try to do anything for a couple more hours!" And with a wild grin, she whisked him to the middle. "Now let's have some fun Li!"

Hanging in the middle of the crowd, for a while, the teenager actually did enjoy himself for a bit. It was fun watching Mei talk with people and curse things that she probably didn't actually know all that much about and it was even better when someone started passing around beer to drink, by the end he was feeling quite buzzed. Laughing along with the group, Li hardly noticed the first shrieks or the pushing. It wasn't until his friend's sister began to pull at him that he realized stuff was changing.

Clumsily running along with Mei, he passed by a video camera, bare-faced and looking straight into it. Alarm bell warning going off in his head, he yanked up the floral print to cover his face and ducked his head.

"C'mon!" The girl shouted.

Hurrying up, Li hoped the camera hadn't been running and ducked his head as he let Mei guide them back to her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Li-Hong Kong
> 
> Mei-Taiwan 
> 
> Yao-China


	15. Confronting and Prepping

Watching the small television nailed to the wall of the of the open kitchen, Yao grumbled tiredly to himself and swatted at Yong Soo as his dozing took his face a bit too close to his breakfast. "Stay awake brat," he muttered. Picking up his cup, he watched the flickering images play on the television. He didn't really listen to what the newscaster was talking about, instead Yao took pleasure in looking at her alert, faintly lined face and brought a hand to his own smooth flesh. Sometimes he wished his age was more apparent, but the Chinese man was quickly swept from the thought by the sudden tightness that came to the newscaster's face.

She babbled something. "...and this is a clip of protests last night..." and her pretty face was replaced with a movie of a dark morning. Young people scattering with screams and stomping feet; what caught Yao's true attention though, was the end. For just a flash he saw the face of his newest stray. Brown eyes wide and ridiculous eyebrows so far up they were hidden behind his fringe and around Li's neck was a floral patterned scarf that he tugged up to cover his face just as the news cut back to the young woman.

Snapping to life, Yao got up and stalked over to the couch. Li lay on his back, one arm over his eyes and his mouth dribbling drool as he breathed. The man reached to shake him awake when he thought better. After all, Yao _knew_ this wouldn't be the boy's fault in the end. Stepping away, he instead stalked to Mei's door and not even caring to knock, he barged in.

"Get up aru!" He ordered.

She sat up in the middle of her bed, undressed and hair a messy ploom around her head. "Get the hell out!" She roared, tugging up her duvet to cover her shirtless chest.

Ignoring her altogether, Yao went forward and gripped her by her upper arm and dragged her out. "You are going to tell me what you did  _right now_."

"Jeez! I didn't do anything you psycho!" She grunted pulling away as she wrapped the blanket around her. "What do you  _really_ want?"

Glaring at the girl, the Chinese man crossed his arms. "I saw Li's face on the  _television,_  Mei; the television!"

"Damn.." she whispered; a hand freeing itself from her covers, Mei ran it through her hair. "What are we going to do?"

Sighing, the man stepped back. "More like what am _I_ going to do?" Yao gave his old stray a disappointed look, "I was hoping you'd help in keeping them safe - not risking the boys unnecessarily."

Pain flashed in her gaze for a moment, but indignation overtook it fast enough. "They aren't  _my_ responsibility!" Mei argued.

"No," Yao agreed. "But I was hoping you'd realize they are  _mine_." And with no more to tell the reckless girl, the Chinese man left her to return to his brother and drink in the kitchen. He would wake Li later. Maybe by then he would have a plan in place for finding the Hong Kong native's father and an idea as how to get Li there.

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Sitting up, Li glanced back to where he heard yelling and then to Yong soo. He shook his head at the sight of the other with his nose in his breakfast. Getting up, he went and shook his friend awake. "Hey," he said; "You're going to drown yourself in your  _breakfast._ "

His head snapped up and then Yong Soo gave him a bleary smile. "Oh hi Li!" He exclaimed wiping at his nose with his sleeve. "You're up early..."

"I don't know about that..." The Hong Kong native mumbled. "You're up and  _everyone_ knows you wouldn't wake up before noon if someone didn't make you!"

The other giggled and leaned on the table. "Yeah, Yao woke me. He wants me to help him clean up Mei's apartment;" eyes going wide, he feigned a secretive hush as he leaned in. "It's a mess."

"Oh really?" Li snarked with a grin of his own. Plopping down in a seat, the teenager noticed a cup and empty chair. "What's your brother doing?"

Cocking his head, Yong Soo shrugged. "From the sound of it, I'd say fighting with Mei."

Tugging a peach from the fruit dish into his hands, Li rolled it on the table and furthered his questioning. "Do they argue a lot when you guys visit?"

"Uh-huh," his friend yawned. "They've fought from the beginning, I think."

Biting into the fruit, Li hummed and watched his friend eat a spoonful of his rice before he asked; "Then why'd she ever agree to live with him?"

"It's very charming when he tells you 'come live with me now.'," Yong Soo explained. "Then again, Mei's always been pretty rational. She likely knew Yao was her best bet for a safe home and food to eat."

Half-way done with his snack, the teenager took a moment to lick at his fingers. "I see."

"Look," Yong Soo whispered abruptly, awed gaze on the quiet television behind them. Twisting in his chair, Li felt his stomach drop at what he saw. It was  _him_. He was on the television!  _People knew he had been at the protest!_  Feeling very sick, the Hong Kong native hopped from his chair and rush to the sink where he up-chucked the peach and then some.

A hand on his back made Li jump. Spinning around, he saw it was Yao. "Are you well?" He inquired.

"Yeah," the teenager replied. "Just-"

Sympathy in his dark gaze, the man reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "You saw the news didn't you?"

Hanging his head, Li nodded. "Yes sir."

"I'm not upset," the Chinese man explained; "I've come to expect that Mei will do reckless things...I'm just disappointed that she took you along." And when the teenager looked up, Yao did appear rather sad-faced.

Scuffing his foot, he murmured "sorry."

"I was thinking we'd send you to your father," Yao told him after a moment. Blinking, Li found himself speechless and instead listened raptly as Yao bounced on his feet a little; "You see, now that your face is on the news, police will be trying to find you and that-" the Chinese man shivered; "That rarely ends well these days and well, you're  _my_ responsibility now." He put a hand on the Hong Kong native's shoulder. "Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Li croaked. "If I stay here something bad'll happen to me..." with a searching gaze he whispered; "But how do we know my father won't hate supers too?"

He gave a breathless chuckle, a cynical smile tugging at his lips; Yao said to him "you let me worry about that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Yao-China
> 
> Li-Hong Kong
> 
> Mei-Taiwan
> 
> Yong Soo-Korea


	16. Packing and Stalling

"Are you ready for tomorrow aru?" Yao asked as he came up beside Li who was packing his knapsack. Taking a step back from his borrowed bed, the Hong Kong native sent a glance to the closet he shared with Yong Soo. Half his new wardrobe was still there. "It seems a shame to leave behind so many things I've hardly used."

The man gripped Li's shoulder. "Sometimes things happen for a reason," he told the boy. "It might not seem like it...but I've been alive long enough to come and understand this as fact. No matter how senseless it seems at the time - or even a year or so after, eventually you  _can_ look back and see that if the event didn't happen then other things that happened after wouldn't have occurred."

Zipping up the newly bought bag, the teenager separated himself from Yao and gave the saddened face looking at him a smile. "You've been really great to me," he told the Chinese man; "so thank you." And with gathering tears in his eyes went to the little window Yong Soo kept his collection of dorky bobble-heads on.

"You'll be able to come home in a few years," Yao reminded the boy. "That might seem like a long time, but by then you'll be finished with school..."

Swiping at his eyes, Li nodded his head. "I know," he said. "I know." Turning back, he looked at the man who took him in and asked "My mom, will she be okay?" Stepping away from the window, he fidgeted with a sleeve of some sweater the belonged to Yong Soo in the closet. "I know she kicked me out and everything, but..."

"You still care about her aru," Yao supplied sagely.

The Hong Kong native let a soft chuckle escape his lips. "Yeah. She's my  _mom_." Reaching out, the man offered a hug that Li didn't feel prideful enough to resist; walking into his arms, he let the man hug him. "Is bad that I still want to see her? Even after everything she's done to me?"

"No, you have every right to still want to see her..." Yao soothed as he swayed with the teenager for a bit. They were quiet for a long moment, giving and taking what they needed. Upon the shifting of Li, the elder pulled away fully and reached for the papers he'd brought with him still on the red sheets of Yong Soo's bed. "Here aru," he said to the Hong Kong native as he handed him the papers.

Looking at the mild stack, thick brows furrowed as they lifted to search Yao's face. "What're these?" Li questioned.

"Information about your father."

Those ridiculous eyebrows disappeared completely behind his fringe for a moment. " _All_ of this?" The teenager awed.

"Yes," Yao replied; "It took a bit of digging given you knew so little; his first name, nationality, the year he was in Hong Kong and what he was here for, but I ended up being able to narrow it down to a few candidates and then when I looked at the pictures - well, I knew he was your father."

Curious, Li questioned the Chinese man; "Do we look alike?"

"Take a look at the third page of the file," The elder said as he made a little flipping motion with his hand.

The teenager did so only to scowl. "So it's  _his_ fault," The Hong Kong native grumbled as his fingers went to his eyebrows. Yao bit back a smirk. Yes indeed, those monstrosities were the Englishman's fault. Looking through more of the research, Li asked; "Do you know his view on supers?"

"He's an author aru," the man explained; "What little he has written about supers is either neutral or bordering on sympathetic." Patting the boy's back, he enthused him a hopeful note; "It looks like he'll accept you quite happily!"

Li's eyes went to his feet. "Does he want a kid? Or I guess would he  _like_ one?"

"He has nephews, ones he dedicated a book to. I think he'll accept you and your existence quite easily."

"Alright then," The boy exhaled looking up. "When do I meet the guy who's getting me to England?"

Relieved that Li was more confident about the days to come, Yao answered confidently; "Tomorrow morning. You'll get a whole day to talk with him before you leave aru."

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"Li, this is Honda Kiku." Yao introduced as he gave him a little push forward.

The Hong Kong native lifted his hand in an awkward wave. "Hi," he muttered.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Kiku smiled. "I expect you'll be ready to leave later this evening?"

He nodded. "Definitely," Li agreed. "Um, Yao said he's having you take me because you can get me there extra fast...?"

A sly smirk overtook the man's features. "Yes," he replied. "I am a super as Yao is - as you are."

"Wait-" Li looked back to the man and then frustrated, back to the other super. "Yao's a super?"

The Chinese man sighed and dropped to the kitchen chair he'd been sitting in until Kiku had entered his apartment. "I am," he told Li. "By all accounts, I have some form of immortality - I age much slower, I do not get sick very often and when I do, it's not for much more than a day and as far as I can tell, I'm impervious to most ways of death. I can't be burned, poisoned, stabbed, drowned or shot aru."

Eyes dilated, the Hong Kong native just gaped at the man; the sound of the kitchen's fan being the only thing anyone heard for a long minute. "Let us sit down..." Kiku finally murmured; giving Li a nudge towards the chair he'd vacated a couple minutes earlier.

"Where is Yong Soo?" The Japanese man inquired as he accepted the cup of tea that Yao passed to him.

Putting the teapot back on its trivet, Yao grunted. "I told him to get some fish for dinner tonight aru."

"Ah," Kiku replied without much inflection. Taking a sip of his tea, he remarked; "It is nice weather you're having."

Yao snorted. "It's too hot," he countered and looked to Li then. "Are you alright?"

The boy nodded. "Just...surprised." Li answered after a moment. "I never expected-"

"No one does," Yao cut in. "It's to be expected, I suppose."

Looking into his tea, the teenager had to agree. Why should anyone expect a man who appeared little more than thirty-seven, thirty-eight to be so old? Because supers existed? Even that was far too ridiculous to conclude. "You're right," Li finally agreed. It was on the tip of his tongue then to ask just how old Yao actually was but-

"Big brother I'm back!" Yong Soo yelled as he walked into the apartment.

Turning away from the door, Li's friends eyes lit up at the sight of Kiku. "Kiku!" He cried in delight as he dropped the groceries he'd been sent out for. "It's been forever and ever since I last saw you!" The teenager babbled as he squeezed the Japanese man around the neck.

"It is-It is nice to see you too..!" Kiku coughed as he patted Yong Soo's back.

Yao covered his face for a moment, but then with a shake of his head he got up and smiled a bit at Li. "Want to help me get a start on dinner aru?"

"Sure," and the teenager got up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Yao-China
> 
> Arthur-England
> 
> Li-Hong Kong
> 
> Yong Soo-S. Korea
> 
> Kiku-Japan


	17. Fretting and Deciding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, alerts, bookmarks and comments so far guys! I really appreciate it!

Feliciano followed his brother with quivering knees and feet ready to flee at a moment's notice into the restaurant that their grandfather used to take them to when they were small. It had been a favorite hangout of his, though, maybe that wasn't the correct term; it had been a favorite  _meeting_ place. This is where his grandfather met with his underlings and took his cut of the profits. Sometimes, Feli suspected that this was also where he preformed some villainous acts - like busting the kneecaps of a rival mafia stooge or cutting off the fingers of a thief.

Of course, the teenager didn't know this for sure. He and Lovino were left in the front of the restaurant always with a pack of crayons and a coloring mat to be supervised by some pretty waitresses. Always. They gave them juice, candies, ice cream and few of the girls even sat down with them and helped with their homework if they felt Feli and Lovi were adorable enough to warrant such interest.

Why they visited now was more out of habit and lost love. The men who still frequented the small establishment had been under their grandfather's direction and treated like uncles. But unlike uncle Marcellus, Feliciano did not love any of these men. He may have enjoyed them when he was young; they way they offered head pats, praise and treats won over his childhood-self easy enough, however that sort of stuff didn't interest him at sixteen and he would rather hangout with Ludwig or go to art club, but Lovino...

He was his most pleasant among these men. Lovino almost seemed  _happy_ in their company, he swore, they laughed, he complained about something, they sympathized and on more than one occasion they'd offered to shoot Antonio in the butt for the way he carried on with Feli's brother. Of course, Lovi always turned down the offer, but sometimes Feliciano wondered if one of them wouldn't take up the task regardless. His brother always bad-mouthed those he liked, yet Feli couldn't be sure all his grandfather's old underlings knew this.

"Feliciano! Lovino!" A grinning man called from behind the dimly lit bar as they stepped into the restaurant.

Putting on a smile, Feli waved at the fat man. "Hello Mr. Brasi!"

"How you boys doing?" He inquired as he put down two glasses on the cherry wood. "Want somethin' to drink?"

Going over, Lovino dropped his bag and slid into his favorite spot; curling around the bar. "Yeah," he agreed. "Can I get some coffee today though? I was up all night studying..."

"Course Lovino," Mr. Brasi smiled. "Want it iced? It's kind of hot out, don't ya think?"

Idly kicking his foot, Feliciano's brother nodded as he took the seat beside him. "That'd be good, thanks."

"Here ya go," the man grinned as he put the drink down in front of Lovino; tapping his bulbous nose, he looked at Feliciano with a smirk. "What about you? Coffee like your  _fratello_?"

"No," Feli shook his head. "Just some lemonade if you have it."

Mr. Brasi chuckled. "I do in fact," he said as he reached for the pitcher in the fridge behind the bar. "I keep a lot of things on hand for you kids and the girls," he remarked as he poured the yellow liquid. "You guys are so wishy-washy that I never know what to have on hand and what not to - so, I've just come to keep it all here in the fridge."

Taking a sip of the sweet and sour drink, Feliciano hummed politely. " _Grazie,"_

"Bah, it's nothing! I'd do anything for Augustus's grandsons!" He deflected as he finished drying a few glasses to hang in the rack overhead. "So Feli, when are you going to have that painting you promised me done? The girls are nagging me about how dark it is in here more and more every day, we could really do with that bit of color."

Running his fingers up and down in the condensation of his glass, Felciano thought of the garish work he had hidden in the back of his studio in the home he shared with his brother and uncle. He wondered if "the girls" Mr. Brasi's daughters Maria and Isabelle would like the painting. Probably, they seemed to think the brighter the colors the better, Feli mused. From food to lipstick, bold won out. Faded or pale was fit only for trash heaps and ugly girls. Feliciano had to disagree, mind-eye filling with pale blue and white-blond hair...

"Oi!  _Stronzo_! Give Mr. Brasi an answer why don't you?!" Lovino snapped, giving him a shove.

His drink spilled across the counter-top and into his lap. "Ah!" Feli yelped standing up. Waving his hands around in frantic apology, he yelled; "I'm so sorry! Oh Mr. Brasi I didn't mean to..."

Handing him the rag he'd used to clean up the drink, the man shrugged. "Eh, a bit of lemonade is no where near the worst thing I've seen spilled."

" _Grazie_..." Feli murmured as he wiped up the puddle and dabbed at his clothes. Once done, he put it back on the counter and with a guilty pout, told the man; "I'm sorry about wasting the lemonade like that...and your painting should be done next week. I was thinking about how long it would take to dry..."

Chuckling with good humor, the man's large nose almost bounced as he bobbed his head. "It's alright Feli! I know you, you're the daydreamer type; like that uncle of yours." Reaching around, he put a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "Now, it's your  _fratello_ who's got the head on his shoulders! Like your grandfather."

And for a moment, his brother glowed under the praise. Feliciano hated it. Hated Mr. Brasi. Hated grandfather even. He might be a bit slow, but he knew what this man was doing and who's fault it was. Because as much as the old man liked to say Lovino and their grandfather were alike, Feliciano knew Lovi was far too hot-headed. Grandfather could hold his tongue and knew retreat, but Feli's brother was still young and did not yet know either.

Mr. Brasi and the rest of their grandfather's men would be the death of Lovino. Maybe him also.

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Showing them out, Mr. Brasi snagged Lovino by his arm; it was on the tip of the boy's tongue to cuss him out for it. He had to  _go_ after all. Uncle Marcellus hated it when they were late for dinner. He might in fact punish him for it. But the old man smiled and said; "Just a moment Augustus's grandson."

Relenting, Lovi fell back. "What is it?" He demanded.

"I want you to come back tonight," Mr. Brasi said.

Lovino hesitated. He had school in the morning...plus there was that big history paper due at the end of the week. "I don't know Mr. Brasi," The boy worried. The grip on his arm tightened.

"You come back, school won't matter so much anymore."

Lovi blinked and studied the care-worn face. His dark eyes did not lie, Lovino noted. "Okay," he agreed then. "When tonight? Like after dinner?"

"Try eleven thirty," Mr. Brasi grinned, showing off the chipped canine he had. If he thought about it, Lovi was pretty sure he'd gotten  _that_ deformity in a bar fight. Him and the rest of his grandfather's old friends had many scars and broken things; which proved to show their type of life wasn't an easy one. Yet Lovino wanted to be a part of it too, it had been the life of his father, and grandfather before him; it was in the boy's blood and he planned to do both proud by living it just as they had.

Be damned what his sissy brother and uncle thought and said god thought about sinful men. Lovino didn't buy any of it and figured if god cared, he'd have killed the first mobster and his men as warning to all who thought it could be a lucrative career as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Feliciano-N. Italy
> 
> Lovino-S. Italy
> 
> (Uncle) Marcellus-Vatican City
> 
> Augustus-Ancient Rome
> 
> Ludwig-Germany


	18. Scattering and Gathering

Sitting at one end of a sleek, balsa wood table in a white, sparsely filled room, a trio of males ate in relative silence; only the ding of forks against plates and the clank of moving drink glasses keeping the room from feeling dead. Disturbed by the odd silence, Marcellus looked between his nephews; Lovino was blank-faced as he shoveled his spaghetti into his mouth and Feli was-not smiling? The ends of his lips were not even curled upward as they often did. Clearing his throat, the old man asked;

"How was school today boys?"

Lovino grunted around a spoonful of his dinner and Feliciano shrugged; "Fine, I guess  _zio_."

" _Guess_?" Marcellus repeated unhappily. "Boys, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Lovi snapped; getting up, he caused his glass to tip over.

Shooting up himself, the old man cried; "Lovino!" Pointing at the spilled drink, he demanded; "Clean that up now!"

" _Vaffanculo_! I'm not doing what you say!" The teenager shouted.

Taking a deep breath, Marcellus didn't know what to do. The boy was only becoming more volatile with each passing day and he just could not understand it! He'd always been grumpy, rude and all around unpleasant; however, he'd always toned it down for family. So with a sigh, he told his nephew; "Go to your room Lovino, I don't want to see you again until breakfast."

His face a red as the tomato-sauce his dinner was slathered in, the teenager yelled; "Fine! It's not like I care!" And with nothing else to say, Lovino stalked out of the room and - hopefully - to his bedroom. Turning to Feli, Marceullus asked;

"Did something happen Feliciano? Did he get in a fight with someone? Or-" he sighed. "Was that Antonio at Henrique's store today when I asked you to go get some more pasta?"

The boy bit his lip. "I-I" he whispered, "don't know  _zio_."

"Please Feli," the old man pleaded. "Just  _tell_ me what's going on with you boys, I can't keep guessing! Did Augustus have this much trouble wrangling an answer from you two!?" And as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted it.

Pale and shaking, Feliciano got up and said; "I'm done eating uncle Marcellus, I'll-I'll-" and he fled.

Putting his hand in his heads, Marcellus wondered why in the world Augusta left his grandsons to him. He had never shown any talent in being an uncle let alone a father; but somehow, his brother still decided he, a life-long bachelor, was the best choice for his grandson's to be raised by instead of one of his trusted mafia men who had children themselves.

Now, Marcellus had never approved of Augusta's choice to start a mafia, or to raise his son and grandsons in it, but it had always felt obvious to him that someday one of the twins would take over the mafia (if they didn't die trying like Feli and Lovino's father had) and for that to happen, the boys would be and should be raised by men who knew the ins and outs. Not a... _black sheep_ like him.

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"You made it!" Mr. Brasi exclaimed as he welcomed the teenager with a pat to the back. "Now come on, everyone's waiting for you in the kitchen," he told Lovino as they made their way past the dining area of the restaurant and into the kitchen behind the bar.

"...Kitchen?" Lovino mumbled listlessly. Why there? Surely it was more comfortable to meet out here...but before he could really ask any more questions, they were in the kitchen and the teenager almost opened his mouth to inquire where the rest of their associates were; but then his grandfather's friend did the oddest thing! He opened the freezer door and ushered him. Once inside, Mr. Brasi pulled aside a cart of meat and Lovino looked on with curiosity as the man pushed the wall with his shoulder.

It popped open.

Not capable of hiding his gasp, the teenager saw Mr. Brasi smirk at him as the old man tugged him in. "Hurry now!" He ordered.

Stumbling in, Lovino looked at the group of men gathered and couldn't help but whisper; " _Merda!_ "

An uproar of laughter followed his curse and the teenager sort of chuckled along, more embarrassed than anything. Doing the group a once over, Lovino noticed most of them were Mr. Brasi's age or a little older. But if he looked toward the back, he saw a few that could be about the age his dad would be and some that were almost as old or rather -  _young -_ as him.

Lovino jumped as Mr. Brasi put a hand on his shoulder and boomed; "This is Augustus's grandson Lovino!" Then, capturing his eyes, the tall man smiled and remarked to the rest, "He's the one that has the right fire in him. His  _fratello_ is...too gentle."

The teenager felt proud. He was the good one ( _finally_!). Lovino was finally the right type of person for  _someone_ and it didn't matter to him what he would have to do now as long as they continued to accept him and maybe even like him and his smart mouth.

"Is he the one you had in mind then? For the assignment?" One of the men smoking a cigar asked as he tossed down a playing card.

Mr. Brasi nodded. "He is Aldo, I know you were wanting to get  _your_ grandson into the business with this assignment...but it's  _Augustus's_ grandson and he's old enough to start learning the business." Then with a stern look on his face, the tall man said; "None of us would be here without Lovino's grandfather so I think it's best we show our respect by taking his grandson under our wing now instead of later."

"Hear, hear!" A mobster toward the back cheered and the others clapped politely.

Flushing just a little with joy, Lovino turned to Mr. Brasi and asked; "So what am I to do? It's not..." he paled. "I don't have to kill someone do I?" He realized his slip up and corrected lamely; "Right away. I mean right away. I figure eventually..."

The mafia laughed. Feeling a little irritated with them, the teenager crossed his arms and only relaxed when Mr. Brasi ruffled his hair. "We don't do too much killing these days," he admitted. "Most people are working along side us - police, shopkeepers, bar owners and drug dealers included. But..." he trailed off. "There's this young guy, who's opened up a restaurant down on the corner and he has yet to pay his share for having a business on our street." Smiling he explained to Lovino "that's where you're coming in. You go there and  _persuade_ him to agree to our business terms." _  
_

Relieved at the seeming simplicity, the teenager nodded. "Sure, I can do that. What's this guy's name?"

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."

 _Well...fuck!_  Lovino thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovino-S. Italy
> 
> Feliciano-N. Italy
> 
> Marcellus-Vatican City
> 
> Augustus-Ancient Roman Empire


	19. Facing and Running

Feliciano hadn't shared a room with his brother since he was six and still wet the bed, but the senses he'd honed during that time still worked. His brother might now be on the other side of the wall instead of sleeping beside him, but the teenager still woke when his twin got up and stayed awake until he heard the sigh of Lovino's bed as he crawled back beneath his sheets. So when Feliciano heard his brother on the other side of the wall earlier, he'd come out of his dreams of flying with meatballs and waited for the creak of his bedroom door...but it never came.

Instead, he heard his Lovino's window open. Then there was silence for several minutes. Quaking beneath his covers, Feliciano wondered what his brother was doing. Was he smoking? He'd picked that habit up lately, but uncle Marcellus's scoldings were ineffectual when it came to his twin; Lovino  _wanted_ to fight. Over anything and everything. While Feli...he was just felt guilty all over. He didn't need scoldings. Punishments. Not even a harsh word to get him moving. He did what was expected and told simply because he hope it would appease his guilt one of these days.

Getting up, Feliciano grabbed a pair of pants and his shoes from beneath his bed. He had to see what Lovino was doing. The teenager didn't  _care_ anymore if he walked in and got yelled at and then woke up uncle Marcellus who would come into his twin's room and do some more yelling. Doing up the zipper of his pants outside his brother's door, he stared at the sign that said:

_Keep Out_

It was a terribly cliche teenage sign, but it was a perfect match for Lovino and all his hostility. Feli could remember his brother's door at their grandpa's old place, when they were about ten and Feliciano had really begun to delve into painting, he'd painted a bunch of tomatoes around the edges of his brother's door. Lovino had told him they were  _stupido_ , but never had he tried to cover them or paint over the them. So Feliciano had always been quite proud of those tomatoes; for his twin to leave them up, they had to be quite good after all.

Taking a breath, he turned the knob and looked into the room to find it empty. Gaping, Feliciano turned in his spot wondering if he just wasn't looking right...but no, after a thorough scan of his twin's fairly neat and book-laden room, the teenager had to come to the conclusion that his twin had climbed out his bedroom window. Going over to said window, he stared at the gnarly branches of the olive tree beside it. Had Lovino really...? Feli was forced to conclude his brother had when he saw a couple snapped branches a bit beneath the one that was closest to the window.

Feliciano took a step back. Was he going to follow? Or was he going to wait? It wasn't like he knew where his twin had gone...with this crushing thought in mind, he went back and sat down on his brother's bed. He'd wait for Lovi to come home. He'd ask him why he left. Demand an answer that wasn't a lie...or maybe he'd just get too scared to say anything when he got back and leave when he heard Lovino cursing the tree next to his window.

They would see.

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Eating cold pasta beside Ludwig in the middle of the green and white themed lunchroom, Feliciano's not concentrating on anything besides the fact his brother hadn't shown up for lunch yet and what had happened between them last night...

_Staying silent as his brother came through the window, Feliciano didn't speak until he saw his brother take a step away from it._

_"L-Lovino, where did you go?"_

_His brother went rigid and clenched the one hand the other could see. "It's not your business you_ Testa di cazzo _!" Lovino growled._

 _"I think it is!" Feliciano had yelled back with some venom. "You're my_ fratello _! Of course it's my business!"_

_Feli's twin whirled around then, the teenager had gasped at what he saw in his twin's hand it was a-_

_"Get out of here Feliciano!" Lovino snarled._

_Feet already set for fleeing, the brother hadn't needed anymore prompting and sprinted away from Lovino and back underneath his sheets in his own room - where he stayed shivering for the rest of the night._

"Feliciano!"

Jolting, the teenager looked to his friend. "Oh Ludwig!" He smiled. "Was I daydreaming?"

Giving the other a puzzled look, the blond remarked; "I think it vas more than just daydreaming...you had a very ugly frown."

"Oh don't worry about that!" Feliciano laughed. "I'm just trying to remember everything for my biology test after lunch!"

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, disbelief clear. "Did you and your  _bruder_ fight again?" He asked.

"O-Oh I wouldn't say we have been  _fighting..._ " The teenager replied as a cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. "More like we are having a-a  _disagreement_!" Pushing himself up from the table he nodded happily at his answer. "Yeah! It's just a disagreement!" Gathering up his books and leaving his pasta untouched, he told his friend "I got to go." Pushing some papers into a binder he concluded with "see you in phys ed. alright?"

Blinking pale eyes, the other could only nod in surprise. It was very odd behavior Feliciano was exhibiting today..." _Ja_ ," he agreed. "I vill see you then."

" _Ciao_ Ludwig!" Feli yelled with over the top exuberance as he all but ran from the lunchroom. Shaking his head, the blond let his chin drop into his hand and muttered "Maybe I should have made him tell me vhat vas vrong."

Picking up his own things then, Ludwig figured he would go find his brother and see if he'd let him go study at Feliciano's tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there readers! I've uploaded a prelude for Ascendant if you haven't noticed, so why don't you go check that out too?
> 
> Characters:
> 
> Feliciano-N. Italy
> 
> Lovino-S. Italy
> 
> (uncle) Marcellus-Vatican City
> 
> Ludwig-Germany


	20. Waiting and Doing

Ditching school after second period, Lovino took to traipsing around the only town he's ever known; it was a medium-sized place, mostly made of buildings at least fifty if not a hundred years old, elderly men and woman walked along the brick streets and cats wandered freely - sometimes being bold enough to enter one of stores that kept its door open to invite people in from the heat.

Even as he tried to take comfort in a place he'd always called home, the heavy weight in his pocket nagged him all the while. He had to do it tonight. Lovino had to go to that tomato-bastard's restaurant tonight and wave around the little pistol like it was nothing as he demanded a share of his profits. Could he do it? The teenager was terrified to find out.

Eventually, as lunch came around he walked in the direction of Henrique's corner store. Maybe a tomato or two for lunch would make him feel better. When he walked into the store, it was more or less empty besides an a mother with a baby attached to her chest inspecting melons and a middle-aged guy out front smoking. Grabbing a couple of tomatoes right off the top of the pile in the vegetable section he went to the register.

"Hello Lovino," Henrique greeted as he weighed the teenager's lunch. "Isn't this a bit far to come for lunch?"

Lovino scowled. " _Vaffanculo_!" He cursed at the owner as he slapped down his payment and took his tomatoes. "You aren't my  _zio_!" The teenager spat at the Portuguese man before he all but ran out the door.

Blinking at the money and then at the enterance, Henrique just shook his head. "Damn brat," he grumbled with little more to say about it.

Later, when Lovino walked into his home about half an hour after school finished, his uncle Marcellus was waiting for him. An unusually frightful scowl on his face, he demanded "Where were you today Lovino? I got a call from the school several hours ago saying you hadn't gone to any of your classes after second!"

"Leave me alone," the teenager said in disgust as he headed for his room.

Lunging forward, Marcellus grabbed the teenager's arm. "Lovino! Tell me what's wrong! What's happening son?" He cried, managing to get brown, green-flecked eyes to meet his. The look of devastation was enough to let the old man know whatever was bothering his nephew was not something that could be fixed easily.

"What did you get yourself into?" Marcellus whispered.

Turning his head, the teenager murmured "Leave me alone uncle Marcellus. I already made up my mind." And the man let Lovino slip through his fingers.

Just like everyone else.

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Feliciano stayed awake. When he heard his brother on the other side of the wall get out of bed, the teenager stood up from his desk chair and went to his window. From there, he watched his twin come down the olive tree (less than gracefully) and kick it several times in the darkness of night before speed-walking away from the house they shared with their uncle.

As fast as he could, Feli went to his brother's room and took the same path as his twin had going down the tree and then he jogged along the path he'd seen his brother take just a couple minutes earlier. For a moment, in the dark, the teenager feared he'd lost Lovino. However, as if god was on his side, a beam of light from one of the neighboring homes caught his brother's hair and Feliciano saw it. Hurrying, he managed to get close and stay close to his twin after.

Scared and worried, Feliciano didn't even know where they were going for the longest time. It wasn't until his brother stopped in front of a relatively new restaurant that any idea came to him.

_Isn't this Mr. Henrique's brother's new-_

Oh.  _oh_. A few lights still shined in the windows of the eatery. Checking his cellphone, Feliciano realized it was barely eleven. His brother was going to-!

Lovino stepped into the restaurant. Feliciano scrambled after, he couldn't let his brother  _do_ this! It was too final, too  _evil_. The teenager ended up ducking behind the hostess podium when he heard Antonio speak, though, too scared he'd see him and reveal him too his twin.

"Ah Lovino! What brings you hear my cute little tomato?"

"Shut up! You  _c_ _oglione_!" His brother growled.

There was a moment of frightening silence. "Hey kiddo, where'd you get the gun?"

"Look  _Carriedo_ we can make this easy or we can make it hard," Feli's twin explained. "My friends and me want a share of your profits for being in our neighborhood, you see?"

He heard the scuffing of feet. "You don't have to do this Lovi," Antonio pleaded.

"Look tomato-bastard, you got a choice here - either you agree to paying your fee or you get a cap in the knee."

There was a shuddering breath and a low snarl. " _Por favor_ Lovino!" Henrique's brother begged. "You need to  _stop_ this or neither of us will like the consequences!"

Feliciano almost sobbed when he heard the click of the pistol his brother had. "I can't," his twin whispered.

But before a shot fired, a scary,  _mostroso_ roar shook the building and Lovino cried out - the clatter of metal somewhere in the middle of all the commotion. Peaking out around the podium, Felciano quaked anew at what he saw.

Antonio was a  _super_. A big, scary, berserker super. The man twice his usual size and scowling unlike anything before, raised his fist like he was going to-

" _Non_!" Felciano screamed jumping in front of his twin. He couldn't let Antonio hurt his brother. Not even if Lovi was working for their grandpa's scary mafia and doing bad things.

The super's fist was looming, shadow engulfing and Feli closed his eyes because he didn't want to see what was going to come next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Lovino-S. Italy
> 
> Feliciano-N. Italy
> 
> (Uncle) Marcellus-Vatican City
> 
> Antonio Carriedo-Spain
> 
> Henrique-Portugal
> 
> Also all Italian swears are thanks to ElizabethScaffie!


	21. Breathing and Stuttering

" _Para_!" A voice screamed.

The fist Felicano feared never landed and somewhere above the beast that was once the smiling Spaniard roared.

Lovi was crying.

But so was he.

Opening his eyes, he stared into the tomato-red flushed face of his twin and kissed his wet cheeks.

" _Fratello_ ," he whimpered. " _Fratello..._ "

His brother's arm hooked around Feli's neck and brought him down on top of him. Still crying, Lovino cursed "You  _p_ _ezzo di_   _merda_!" A fist weakly beating on his back, Feliciano's twin growled "You shouldn't have done that! You shouldn't have been here! You idiot! You  _fuckin'_ idiot!"

The teenager didn't care and just kissed his brother again. "I couldn't!" He sobbed. "I couldn't let you! Your my  _fratello_! My only one and I would rather be  _dead_ than see ruin your life!"

Too shaken to object or fight him, Lovino just averted his gaze and tightened his hold on his twin. He didn't want to let him go to find out this had only been a dream and he was actually dead and buried.

"We have to get out of here!" Feli hissed into his ear urgently. "The police are probably on their way and just  _think_ of what the mafia will do when they find out!"

Laying still, Lovi murmured "They won't do anything. We're grandpa's kids and this was never something we - or rather they - accounted for."

Pushing himself up and nearly breaking the hold his twin kept on him, Feliciano fisted his hands into Lovino's shirt and yelled "What if they did this on purpose!? What if they want us  _dead_?!"

For the first time in so long, Lovino looked lost. Utterly so. "Why - they  _couldn't_! They said..."

"Said what  _fratello_? That they  _love_ you!? Because they don't! Not like I do! Not like  _zio_!"

And even with his greatest fears still telling him to cling to the brother he nearly lost, Lovino pushed him off. "You don't love me!" He screeched. "And neither does uncle Marcellus!" Voice quivering, he mumbled "No one loves me. They all love  _you._ " _  
_

"They-" Feliciano just didn't know what to say. What could he? His brother obviously believed what he said. He believed everyone loved Feli and not an ounce of it was shared with him. He _knew_ that couldn't be true, (or could it?) but how did he prove it wasn't so?

"Hey!"

Feliciano and Lovino turned their heads. It was Mr. Henrique. Antonio's brother.

The Portuguese man had his younger brother leaning heavily against him in ripped up clothing. "I get that you two are trying to 'work' stuff out, but if you don't scat  _now,_ you're going to get pulled in this mess and I _know_ that's not what either of you want."

Pulling them up, Feliciano nodded along. "Yessir," he answered and tugging Lovino along he mumbled "Let's go  _fratello_."

His eyes on Antonio, Lovino swallowed. "...Yeah," his twin replied.

As they were hurrying out of the rubble, Mr. Henrique shouted after them; "You! Lovino!"

They paused just long enough to glance back.

A pinched look on his face, Antonio's brother yelled "He won't blame you! This idiot will forgive any cute face - no matter what they've done!"

" _G-Grazie_!" Lovino sobbed abruptly and Feli wondered how many more he had to be holding back.

Giving the other's shirt another jerk, the teenager pleaded with his twin "Let's  _go_!"

And go they did. Like hell's hounds were nipping at the back of their feet.

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"Fuck 'tonio, what have you been eating?" Henrique grumbled at his brother as he dragged his barely conscious body away from the wreckage and down the road toward his home. They would stop there, get the Spaniard a change of clothes and then he'd scroll through Antonio's phone contacts and try and remember which of them was living in town here.

(Something told him it was the annoying one and not the pervy one).

Getting him up the stairs to his apartment was a bit of a struggle and about half-way up the awful, steep things Henrique gave his brother a round of slaps to rouse him enough to finish the task. Once in his dark apartment, he dropped his brother on the couch he had owned since he moved out of their mother's home and then moved on to his bedroom in front of it.

There, Henrique grabbed an old soccer jersey he knew his mother must have mistakenly packed away with his things years ago or that Antonio left behind in his old home before he moved to Italy. Then he ripped open a dresser and took the first pair of jeans he saw badly stuffed among other pants.

Walking back into the living room, he worked the torn up clothes Antonio wore off and replaced them with the ones he brought out for him. Once done, Henrique turned to his brother's phone and called the annoying one's number

"'tonio?" they answered.

Sighing, Henrique ran a hand through his hair and began to explain. "Gilbert...this is Henrique. Remember me? Antonio's gotten himself into a spot of trouble and I was wondering if..."

As he talked and answered Gilbert's questions, the Portuguese man's hand found his brother's and he held tight whilst he spoke to Antonio's friend. He'd never admit it, but Henrique was  _scared._ Terribly so. This was so much like -

He didn't even want to think about it. If he hadn't shown up when he did...Henrique realized it would have been much,  _much_ worse than  _that_ incident and Antonio would once again be heartbroken.

It was a worrisome crush he held on the high school student, but the Portuguese man had seen worse. Antonio always enjoyed a challenge and round faces - which Lovino had and was. Maybe after this...

"Hm? Really?  _Obrigado_ Gilbert! I'll bring him right over!" And with that, he hung up.

Looking again to his brother, Henrique contemplated the best way to get him downstairs and to his motorcycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Feliciano-N. Italy
> 
> Lovino-S. Italy
> 
> Antonio-Spain
> 
> Marcellus-Vatican City
> 
> Henrique-Portugal
> 
> Gilbert-Prussia
> 
> Thank you again ElizabethScaffie of FF.net for the Italian curses!


	22. Entrusting and Distrusting

The albino man's eyes stayed focused on Henrique as he dragged his brother up the short flight of stairs. Stopping mid-way, he put a hand on his hip - trying to keep the weight of his brother balanced against him as he did so - to sneer at Antonio's friend.

"Are you going to stand there you lazy idiot or help me?"

Gilbert scowled. "Fuck you dick," he snapped.

"So?" Henrique insisted as he bounced Antonio to wake him just a bit.

With a quiet curse beneath his breath, the albino went to his brother's other side and helped by taking part of Antonio's weight so they could finish getting him up the stairs and into Gilbert's apartment. Once there, they lowered Henrique's brother on to the ratty couch in the middle of the room and the albino left briefly only to return with two beers.

"Here," he said as he handed the drink to the Henrique.

The portuguese man crinkled his nose. Wine was his preferred drink... "C'mon dude," Gilbert pressed. "Don't tell me you're teetotaler."

"No..." Henrique muttered as he took the bottle and popped the cap.

With one last once-over, the albino chugged his drink down. When done, he slammed it on to the coffee table - which caused Antonio to stir, but not awaken. Taking a sip of his own beer, Antonio's brother glared at Gilbert as he did his best to hide a grimace.

Chuckling, the albino said "You're a light-veight, aren't ya?"

"No!" Henrique snarled as he tipped the drink back. "Beer just sucks!"

Wagging his finger, Gilbert flopped onto the couch; his head falling into Antonio's lap. "Don't diss the beverage of the gods, dude."

"You're a real loser, you know that?" Henrique grumbled.

The albino let one of his signature laughs burble from his lips as he situated himself more comfortably on top of his brother. "Me? A loser? Naw, I'm too awesome to be one of  _those_."

Drumming with nerves, the portuguese man declared "I have to go."

"Ach, hey no!" Gilbert exclaimed as he sat up. "You've hardly explained vhy the fuck you're dumping 'tonio in my lap."

He raised an eyebrow at the albino. "I think you might want to use a different analogy."

"Dude!" He grumbled, "Stop fucking around here! Vhat  _happened_?"

Shifting where he stood, Henrique took in the sight of stray beer bottles and the large television playing some sport station on the wall. He didn't want to talk about it, but...

"It was those Vargas brats," he told Gilbert. "They came around or  _something_ and I think the one Antonio's always babbling about freaked him out and he, well-" he pointed at his brother. "You know."

"Shit man," the albino sighed. "They're both okay, right? 'tonio vill hate himself if one of the brats got hurt."

Henrique's fingers twitched. "I got there in time."

Smirking, Glibert commented "You two always did make an awesome, kick-ass duo."

"Yeah," he grumbled, "Until we  _didn't_."

Face taking on a bit of sympathy, the albino glanced away. "Every team has a fluke once or twice."

"Our fluke got Antonio's girlfriend killed."

Looking quite pained, Gilbert turned away and ran a hand through his friend's hair. "Sometimes the fluke is vorse than you expect..."

Crossing his arms, Henrique looked back to the front door. "It wasn't a fluke, it was a  _sign,_ Gilbert. Supers aren't meant to be heroes."

"Then vhat are ve supposed to be!?" The albino shouted as he stood up from the couch.

Antonio's brow furrowed and the portuguese man felt it was time to go. "Look," he muttered. "I brought him here because  _you're_ his friend and I've told him time and time again since he moved here that he wasn't going to be my problem."

"A brother isn't a title you can give back, you know," Gilbert proclaimed.

Henrique stared back silent. He knew that. Knew that Antonio would always be his burden...but did that mean his life had to revolve around him? No. It didn't. Antonio was a grown-ass man and could take care of himself. Tonight was proof that Henrique  _was_ a good brother. He'd shown up and got Antonio to his friend's house even when he didn't have to, hadn't he?

He had. His quota for brotherliness had been fulfilled for the year (and then some);  _thank you very much_.

Shoving his hands into his jacket, Henrique leaned toward the door. "I'll call or something later, alright? I gotta go. The store opens at six and it's-" he glanced at his watch, it read midnight. "Twelve."

"Yeah, yeah, get out of here you loser," Gilbert grumbled as he took back the empty beer bottle Henrique still held.

Relieved to go, the portuguese man all but shoved it at the albino and ran out of the apartment. Once outside, he hopped on his bike and headed back for home. Tonight had been nerve-wracking in a way his life hadn't been in almost fifteen years. Laughing into the night air, Henrique told himself it was going to be alright. Sure, the news would be hounding after him and looking for Antonio come morning; but as long as his brother stayed at Gilbert's and out of sight...they might be able to re-grasp their precarious hold on normality in a short time.

And that's all he wanted now. He hadn't been a hero in years and he had no interest in having that history dug up.

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"That dick's gone, 'tonio," Gilbert told his friend.

Tired eyes opening just slightly, a wan smile overtook the normally cheerful features. "He's not that bad of a  _hermano,_ you know."

"He pretty much just said he doesn't vant anything to do vith you!" The albino argued heatedly as he slammed down the beer bottle he held.

Struggling to sit up better, the Spaniard shrugged. "When I moved here, it was to be close to  _you,_ not Henrique. When I saw him in his shop, it was a surprise for both of us..."

Taking a seat, Gilbert ran a hand through his hair. " _Gott_ I can't even begin to imagine not ever talking to Luddy. Sure, he's a real bore and  _such_ a hard-ass...but, really 'tonio? How do you two even go on living not caring to know vhere the other is living?"

Eyes shadowing, Antonio looked to his hands. "After...After  _Emma,_ I - we - you don't get it Gil; it's so  _hard_ to look at one another knowing you failed to protect one of your own. Emma was more than just my  _novia_ and our support unit, she was what held us together. We've always fought and she hated to see it, so she'd step in and stop it...without her, we were  _lost_. We're still lost in how to talk to one another without turning to barbs and insults. What Henrique did tonight...it was more than I could have hope or asked for. You might not get it, but he  _is_ a good  _hermano_."

Patting his knee, the albino got up. "Alright, alright," he mumbled. "I get it, he's  _not_ the bad guy here." Then with a smile, he gave Antonio a little nudge. "Vhy don't you go back to sleep dude? I know that the transformation takes a lot out of you."

Relieved, the Spaniard settled by swinging his feet up onto the couch. " _Gracias_ Gilbert, you didn't have to let me stay here."

"Vhat kind of friend vould I be then?" The albino smiled as cleaned up some of the bottles before leaving the room and switching off the light.

In the dim glow of the television, Antonio smiled and prayed tomorrow would be a better day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Henrique-Portugal
> 
> Antonio-Spain
> 
> Gilbert-Prussia
> 
> Emma-Belgium
> 
> Varga-N. Italy and S. Italy


	23. Sympathizing and Wallowing

Fixing a bowl of gazpacho for Antonio, Gilbert sprinkled in a bit of pepper before putting it on a tray between two beers (one for him, one for 'tonio) and proceeded to take it to the living room where he saw the Spaniard sitting up and staring at the television.

As he came closer, Gilbert realized the haggard looking man was talking about the "strange" demolishment of his friend's restaurant. Putting the tray down in Antonio's lap, he took his beer and popped the cap to take a long swig before he said; "you really shouldn't be vatching this, you know."

"Shouldn't  _you_  not drink while on your lunch break?" The Spaniard countered with mild vehemence.

Eying his friend, Gilbert could see how hard Antonio was taking the destruction of his livelihood. This restaurant, it had been his  _dream_. And now...putting on a smile, he declared with an impish tone "Hey now! Just think of all the cash you're going to get from your insurance company! You can make it like, a  _billion_ times more awesome than it vas before!"

Antonio's lips quirked, but the rest of his face continued with its solemn demeanor. " _Gracias_ for trying Gil, but the insurance company is going to investigate and when they see it was caused by something, well,  _super_ , they're going to refuse to pay me anything because 'destruction by super' is not one of the things included in my plan."

Looking at his half-empty bottle of beer, Gilbert could only shake his head in sympathy; " _Scheiße,_ man."

Toying with the spoon for his gazpacho, the Spaniard nodded.

"Vhat are ya gonna do then?" He asked as they flashed to a picture of 'tonio's restaurant on the television. It looked like it'd been hit by a bomb right out of World War Two or something. Gilbert took another swig of his beer.

Antonio didn't say anything for a long while and then, his friend whispered; "I guess I'll go back to Spain. I'm sure someone will dig up the fact that I'm a super and  _you know_ how people feel about them moving around and stuff. Either I do it myself or they'll make me and..." an indescribable emotion ghosted across the Spaniard's face. "They aren't so kind when they deport you."

"Can't you stay vith Henrique?" Gilbert inquired with a mild feeling of desperation. He liked having one of his best friends so close. It'd be so  _unawesome_ if he had to leave just as he was finally settling in!

His friend looked at him as if he was stupid. "Gil," he said slowly, "We aren't like you and Luddy. Not even as kids did we get along all that well..." His eyes turned distant as if he was seeing someone who wasn't him. "Emma changed things for a while. She was like that, you know? And we got that silly idea to help the world in our heads and-"

He sucked in a breath.

"Look what happened," Antonio whispered. "It ruined us."

Gilbert held his tongue. He wanted to remind Antonio that helping the world was  _good_ and that's what supers should be doing because they were stronger and had talents that could keep the normals, like Ludwig, like Feliciano and Lovino, safe and  _alive_.

Emma had known what she was getting herself into, she  _had_ to. All supers were reminded by their families, friends, neighbors and society how dangerous it was to be a super hero. She was not an innocent mistakenly killed or lost during battle, she'd been a hero like the rest of them dying for the cause they all stood for: to keep their homes and family  _safe_.

He wanted to tell his friend this. Remind him why he was a hero and why 'tonio used to be one, but he knew it would only anger the Spaniard.

So, with a sigh Gilbert got up and patted Antonio's shoulder. "Don't make any hasty decisions vhile I'm at vork, alright?"

"Sure," his friend replied in glum tones as he ate a spoonful of his lunch.

Bending down so they were eye to eye once again, Gilbert squeezed his arm and declared "I  _mean_ it, 'tonio."

He swatted him away and grumbled " _Okay_ , Gilbert."

Straightening himself out, he sent his friend one last worried look before he left to finish off the rest of the school day.

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Behind the counter near the front of his store, Henrique looked out at the empty streets and fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. It was a slower than average midday, but he guessed he could blame that on the heat. Much like it'd been in Spain as a boy, people hid away during the hot part of the day and didn't venture out again until late in the day.

Taking a moment to listen to the radio he kept with him at the register, Henrique sighed at the sound of a man's voice droning on about the "mysterious" destruction of his brother's eatery and tried changing the channel on the little radio. Listening in hopes of something new, he heard a woman's voice say

". _..and in today's local news, a popular new restaurant by the name-_ "

He turned it off completely. Listening to the radio was only going to put him further on edge at this rate. He didn't even want to begin to think about the media that was going to come and start swarming his shop once they started getting more information from the police.

Tapping his fingers on the counter, Henrique felt satisfied in knowing his brother was safely tucked away at Gilbert's. No one would go bothering that guy, he was sure. Taking out a spray bottle, he impulsively sprayed the register scanner for what had to be the eighth time that hour and cleaned it until it was shining. He hated the slow part of the day and wished some kids would come ambling in or, hell, even a stealing hobo would be good at this point.

Anything.  _Anything_  to get his mind off Antonio and the destroyed restaurant. Feeling a shiver start in his spine, Henrique had to crouch down and cover his face.

 _God_ , he thought,  _God I haven't felt like this since Emma died..._

Lashing out suddenly, he kicked the counter and screamed "fuck! Fuck this all!" Why did Antonio have to decide to move? Why did a mafia think it was alright to send a  _goddamn_ kid to do their dirty work?

Why did Emma have to die?

Curling up small, he cried into his knees as he hadn't since he found Emma's body among the rubble and realized he'd  _failed._ _He'd_   _ **failed**_ **.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:
> 
> Gilbert-Prussia
> 
> Antonio-Spain
> 
> Ludwig-Germany
> 
> Feliciano-N. Italy
> 
> Lovino-S. Italy
> 
> Emma-Belgium
> 
> Henrique-Portugal


	24. Recalling and Planning

_Rumble scattered under his bare feet as he ran toward his screaming brother. There was only one reason Henrique would be crying like that, it meant that someone, **Emma** , was  **dead** and oh_ mios madres  _they were going to string he and his brother up by their heals and whip them if they didn't get out of here now._

 _Tugging at his brother as he held Emma's bloody, caved in head; he hissed "we have to go_ mi hermano _." And he hated that he was the one saying it, it was his girlfriend dead after all, but the change usually drained him of everything. Anger, joy, sadness, you name it. If it weren't for the stories he'd heard from time to time in the news and passed around at school and such about what happened to exposed supers, he'd probably join Henrique as he wailed over Emma._

_But logic told him they had to leave._

_Giving his older brother another tug, he growled "Now!" and his brother scrambled up, taking Emma's body along with him._

_"We can't take her," he tells his still sniffling brother. "You have to put her down."_

_Henrique's eyes flashed. "She's your_ namorada _! How can you be so cold?!"_

 _Antonio dropped his gaze. "You know why," he whispered to his brother. "So_ por favor _, just **put** Emma down!" His voice taking on a bit of a snarl at the end._

_His brother jumped, hurrying to put Antonio's girlfriend down; tenderly using his sleeve to clean the blood from her cheeks before he stood up and nodded at his younger brother._

_Together, they ran. Ran and ran and ranandranandranandran-_

_Until they were as far from Spain as they could get on their mother's checkbook and cash._

Antonio woke up with a start. Heart thudding and the nape of his neck drenched with sweat, he considered rolling off of Gilbert's couch and taking a shower when a tinny voice from the television caught his attention.

"Back off!"

He looked. It was his brother leaving his shop. A newsgirl, though, ignored his warning and pressed forward with a microphone in hand. Very angry, Antonio's brother snarled "I  _said_ fuck off!" and a shield of translucent blue popped into existence between he and the now stunned young lady.

There was silence and Henrique, looking so very terrified, began to push through the crowds and a camera man at the last moment caught his brother cutting down a street a couple buildings down from his shop. Antonio stared at the television numb as the reporters began to talk about his brother's super abilities and the possibility of Antonio having the same and that being a factor in the mysterious destruction of his restaurant.

But all of that was just background noise. Henrique had just lost control of his powers. That wasn't - it wasn't - how much had last night shaken his brother up? He hadn't had an issue in in controlling the force fields since they were young kids...well, that wasn't  _quite_ right. He had several issues in picking when and when he didn't want them to pop up after Emma died.

Just how similar had last night been to the day Emma died? How close had Antonio come to killing someone again?

Tugging the throw blanket down and over his head, he began to shiver. What if Henrique got their a millisecond later? What would have happened to the boys? They'd be  _dead_ _,_ something murmured in the back of his mind.  _You'd have killed the second person you love more than yourself._

Quaking, Antonio's teeth started to chatter as Emma's voice rose out of the murky depths of his conscious and began to taunt him.

_You aren't happy with just me dead, are you, 'tonio?_

She laughed, witchy and high in the back of his head.

In response, he began a mantra of hail marys hoping they would calm her viciousness.

(They never did, though,).

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Racing through the streets of the small Italian town, Henrique didn't think going home would be a possibility tonight. But where would he go then? Not...he swallowed. He'd have to go to that ass's house and see his  _brother_. Maybe they could figure out something together. Feeling around his pocket for his wallet, Henrique took it out and was relieved to see his debit card.

Most of the time, he liked to leave it at home because he was just going to the shop where he could eat whatever he wanted from there. But for some reason he had it in his wallet and he was grateful. He didn't think he could get a hotel room right now, not so soon after being on the television; but they hadn't even so much as flashed a picture of Antonio on the telly's glowing screen yet...

He bet his brother could rent him (or them) a room at one of the small inns and Henrique could hold out there as it blew over. Because he wasn't leaving Italy. Not  _ever_. It would mean going back to Spain. Or Portugal and he didn't like either any longer. Emma's death soured one and his papa the other.

Italy was - or had been - a perfectly clean slate that was just familiar enough for him to never feel out of place.

Making the decision, he turned heel and began to walk in the other direction with his head down. If he didn't look up and went fast, he'd be at Prussia's place soon enough and from there he and Antonio could go and rent out a room an inn for him. There he would wait the week, or maybe two, before he could return to his nice civilian life.

They'd forget about this by then. They had to.

Henrique  _needed_ them to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Antonio-Spain  
> Emma-Belgium  
> Gilbert-Prussia  
> Henrique-Portugal

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this and please comment/kudo!


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